Fear
by xenascully
Summary: Sometimes it's just not enough to kill... Tony and Gibbs centric-NOT slash
1. Chapter 1

**Fear**

**Rated: T...for now; for violence and language—if something gets added to that list, there will be a warning at the top of the chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, but I derive much pleasure by playing with the characters.**

**Summary: Sometimes it's not enough to just kill... **

**.....................**

"Where the hell is DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he rounded into the bullpen, tossing his empty coffee cup into the trash can beside his desk.

"I don't think he's come in yet, Boss," McGee said after glancing at the agent's untouched desk.

"I have tried calling his cell phone, but he is not answering," Ziva added.

"Call him again," Gibbs ordered as decidedly made his way back out of the bullpen.

"We got a case?" McGee asked. Gibbs paused and turned to look at him.

"No. But that doesn't give Tony an excuse not to be here," he said and turned back toward the elevator.

"Where are _you_ going, Gibbs?" Ziva asked as she dialed Tony's number yet again.

"Need coffee."

*~.~*

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs decided to give his team however long it would take him to walk to and from the coffee shop, to get in contact with Tony, before he would make the decision of whether or not to rip him a new one. But for the time being, he was going to forget about it, get his coffee, and finish it before he got back to his desk.

It didn't take long to get through the line to order. All the faces working behind the counter were familiar and he got his large black coffee in record time. As he walked out and up toward the sidewalk, he heard one of the baristas calling him as he ran out of the cafe and he turned around. "Mr. Gibbs! I'm sorry. Someone came by earlier and told me to give this to you when you came in. I almost forgot," he handed him a folded piece of paper.

"Who gave this to you?" he asked as he took it from him.

"I don't know his name, but he's only been coming by here for about a week. Said he knew you."

"Thanks," Gibbs nodded and the barista gave him a small smile before heading back into the cafe. He opened the paper and held it out so he could read the black ink handwriting.

_If you want to find your missing agent, get into the passenger seat of the van across the street._

And that was all it said... Gibbs took a deep breath through his nose before looking up across the street to see the brown van that sat there, parked. He took a long swig from his coffee cup as he pulled out his cell and dialed McGee. When he answered, Gibbs made sure to make the conversation short, "Did you find him?"

_"He's still not answering, Boss."_

"Talk to the barista," he replied and ended the call, hoping McGee would put the pieces together. He started toward the van as he put his phone back into his pocket. Gibbs couldn't tell if there was anyone in the van, as the windows were tinted. But he wondered if his agent was in the back of that van...and inwardly cursed that he'd left his gun in his desk.

When he reached the door, he took another long drink from his cup and reached for the handle, opening the door and cautiously taking a seat as his eyes came in contact with the man in the driver seat.

"Shut the door, Agent Gibbs," the man said.

"We goin' somewhere?" he asked.

"Privacy," the man cocked his head.

"For you to shoot me?" Gibbs smirked.

The man let out a silent laugh through closed lips as he shook his head, "I'm not going to shoot you. That would be stupid. I just want to show you what happened to your agent." He opened up the laptop he'd been holding in his lap. "If you shut the door, I will show you."

Gibbs took another drink from his cup, then slowly pulled the door closed. "Who are you workin' for?" he asked.

"What makes you think I'm working for someone?" he smirked. Gibbs simply shrugged. "He _said_ you were a good investigator," he smirked. "You'll meet him soon enough. For now, let me do my job and show you the video."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him, watching as he typed into the computer before holding it for Gibbs to see. "This is footage from late last night. Well, technically very early this morning." Gibbs watched the screen intently. He could tell, from the start, that whatever they'd set up to record with, was aimed from across the room toward the front door.

The footage started out with a green tint; indicating that the camera was equipped with night vision. But soon, he saw the front door open, and the camera quickly changed to normal as the lights were switched on. Tony closed the door and turned as he removed his jacket. But as he went to hang it, he stumbled, dropping it to the floor before catching himself against the wall.

Tony pressed his hand against his eyes and forehead, seemingly attempting to collect his bearings. He pushed up from the wall, apparently assuming he could walk, but failed and hit the wall again, this time giving up and sliding down.

"What's happening to him?" Gibbs asked without taking his eyes from his agent.

"In time," the man responded flatly.

Gibbs watched as Tony pulled out his phone and attempted to dial, but almost immediately dropped it, and collapsed fully onto the floor. Then there were men in the room, completely disguised in black clothes and masks. One of them wheeled a metallic chest into the room, laying it flat on the floor before opening the lid.

The chest was no bigger than a child's coffin, and apparently they'd intended to use it as such. Gibbs had assumed Tony was unconscious until two of the men picked him up and he began to weakly struggle as they forced him into the trunk. _"What're you doing?"_ Tony mumbled as he tried to fight against them. _"No!" _They pressed him into the small space with ease even as he flailed about, yelling for them to stop. Then they closed the top and latched it, before one of them walked toward the camera and the screen went blank...

"Where did you take him!" Gibbs glared at the smug man beside him.

"Somewhere you will never find him," he told him. "Unless I take you."

"What the hell do you want from us?" Gibbs felt his heart pounding in his chest.

"I don't have a clue what he wants," the man replied. "That's not part of my job. My job was to show you this video and bring you to your agent. For _his_ sake, I hope you decide to come quickly. He's running out of air."

Gibbs felt his blood boiling. "How do I know he's not already dead?"

The man grinned and pulled out a device resembling a walkie-talkie, "Agent DiNozzo," he said into the device, "Agent Gibbs wants to know that you're still alive."

After a few moments of silent torture, Gibbs heard a response, _"Boss?"_ came the weak voice of his agent, followed by shallow, labored breathing.

"Tony... you okay?" Gibbs asked.

_"Please get me outta here, Boss," _the fear in his voice made Gibbs' heart sink in his chest.

"You hang on. I'm comin'," he replied, and the man holding the device switched it off. "What do I gotta do?" he asked.

"Give me your phone and your weapon."

"Left my gun at the office," he told him as he handed his phone over.

"Your knife," he said. Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him for a moment. "He knows you carry one," he smirked.

As Gibbs reached for his knife, cautiously, he realized that whoever was running this operation, knew a bit more about his team than he'd originally thought. "What happens to us," Gibbs asked as he handed him the knife, "After you take me there?"

The man powered off the phone and tucked it and the knife into his pocket. "Like so many of your questions, Agent Gibbs, I don't have the answer. I told you my job; I know nothing aside from it." He reached behind him and knocked on the partition separating the front cabin from the back, and after a moment, it was pulled open, revealing two armed and masked men with guns. "Get in the back, Gibbs. Let's get this show on the road..."

**.....................**

**tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

"I really don't know, Ziva," McGee said as he frantically typed at his computer. "He just said to talk to the barista, then hung up. Now his phone is turned off."

"He went for coffee," Ziva said.

"Of course...he wants us to talk to the barista at the coffee shop. But why?"

"And why is his phone off? It is breaking one of his own rules, yes?"

McGee's eyes focused on Tony's desk for a moment, then to Gibbs'. "I've got a really bad feeling," he told her. "You should go to Tony's and see if he's just sleeping in or something. I'll go to the coffee shop and see if anyone's seen Gibbs..."

*~.~*

After knocking on the door and getting no answer, Ziva moved to pick the lock, but realized that it was already open. Cautiously, weapon drawn, Ziva entered the apartment. "Tony?" she called as she walked in. She noticed Tony's jacket on the floor; his phone a few feet away. His gun was in its holster on the coffee table alongside his badge.

After searching the entire place, she picked up her cell and dialed McGee. "He is not here," she told him once he answered. "His bed is made, which suggests he did not sleep here last night. But his things are all here. It looks as though he may have been taken some time last night..."

_"I talked to the barista," _McGee told her. _"Apparently someone left a note here for Gibbs. The last they saw him, he was getting into a brown van across the street. Never came out, and they drove off, heading north, about ten minutes ago..."_

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

As soon as he'd heard Gibbs' voice, he knew that he would be okay. Up until that point, he felt he might actually die in that box. Every muscle in Tony's body was screaming at him from being in that position, but there was no room to shift. And he was becoming more and more aware of how difficult it was getting to breathe.

He knew, when he'd gotten into his apartment that morning, that something was wrong. Someone had drugged one of his drinks; of that much, he was sure. He'd barely had enough to make him feel _that_ inhibited. What he really couldn't understand, is why they'd taken him. Why they shoved him into a box, and where they settled on leaving him. But he knew, once he heard Gibbs' voice, that this wasn't really about himself at all. They were using him as bait.

_Shit_, he thought. _They're capturing him by forcing him to rescue me..._ He felt a twinge of anger and frustration, regretful that he'd basically begged Gibbs to rescue him. But that regret was overruled by the overwhelming fear of remaining in that box any longer...

So his fight to stay alive was now more for the fact that his boss was sacrificing himself to save him. If he died there, then it would be for nothing. Tony willed himself to slow his breathing; reserve any amount of oxygen that might be left in that small space. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else...someplace safe. Anywhere but in that box...

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

The van came to a stop, and Gibbs knew they'd driven into some sort of garage since there was no sign of light coming from the windows. But despite this fact, his captors put a sack over his head before leading him out of the back of the van. He walked with their lead, until they reached a door and removed the sack from his head. It took him a moment to focus as they opened the door and shoved him inside.

The room was dark and he felt panicked, as though they'd led him there under false pretenses. But after they shut and locked the door, the lights came on, and Gibbs saw the unmistakeable box in the middle of the floor. He scrambled for it, quickly releasing the latches that held it closed before thrusting the lid open.

He froze; looking at the silent, still form of his senior agent, so sickeningly folded into the small confines of the chest. His hands hovered over him, almost too afraid to check and see if he was still alive. "Tony?" he managed, and Tony's eyes sprang open and sucked in a deep breath of air.

"Boss?" Tony breathed.

Gibbs sighed in relief and positioned himself to help the agent from the box, "Let's get you outta there," he took hold of Tony's arm. "You okay?"

"I'm sorry, Boss," he replied as he allowed Gibbs to help him. He felt extremely weak; half of his body was like pins and needles. "They used me to get you."

"Not your fault," Gibbs pulled Tony's limp form from the box and helped him to sit with his back against the cold, concrete wall of their cell. Tony painfully forced his legs straight out with a yelp. "You been in this thing the whole time?" he asked as he appraised the agent's condition.

"Yeah," he squeaked. "We gotta get outta here, Boss..."

"Workin' on it," he told him as he stood. "What the hell do you want?" he yelled to anyone who might be listening. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for a response. Just when he thought they might not get one, a voice sounded over a speaker.

_"Lie down on the floor, Agent Gibbs. On your stomach; hands out to the side."_

"What do you want?" he asked again.

_"You to follow orders. If you want your agent to live." _

Gibbs turned and met Tony's eyes for a moment, then decidedly got down onto the floor as they'd instructed. The room suddenly flooded with masked, armed men. Most aiming their weapons at Gibbs, and two of them grabbing Tony up from where he'd sat.

"Where are you takin' him?" Gibbs asked, clearly frustrated. But no one bothered to answer. They dragged Tony from the room and made sure Gibbs couldn't stop them from doing so. After they successfully removed Tony, the men began to back out of the room, then shut the door behind them. Gibbs pushed up off the floor and went for the door, unsuccessfully trying to open it. "You better be letting him go!" he shouted. "What the hell do you want with me?"

_"You were never promised that your agent would be released, Agent Gibbs,"_ the voice sounded. _"You agreed to come here, to rescue him from suffocation. Soon, you will be given more chances to save his life."_

"What the hell is the point of this?" he asked.

_"Answers...are needed from you. And...redemption."_

"Redemption? How exactly are you redeeming yourself here?"

_"Not _my_ redemption, Gibbs. This is yours... We'll continue this conversation a little later," _he finished, and there was a clicking sound as the speaker shut off.

Gibbs paced in front of the door, trying to think...trying to understand what this person could possibly be referring to. But his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the distinct sound of what could possibly have been a drill. That's when the screaming started... Tony's screaming...

Gibbs blood went cold and he ran to the door, pounding against it with fury, "Hey! What are you doing to him! Stop this! Leave him alone!" he stopped pounding when he heard the sudden silence, and thought he had been successful. He put his ear against the door and strained to hear. But then he heard the drill again, and Tony began the same torturous scream...

"Sonofabitch! Let me outta here!" Gibbs yelled, kicking at the door to try and free himself from the cell. "What the hell do you want me to do? You said I could save him, so tell me what the fuck to do!"

But no reply came...just repeated stopping and starting of the sound of the drill... Eventually, Tony's screams had stopped. But the drill continued, and Gibbs could only imagine what was happening out there... Helpless and frustrated, he sank to his knees in front of that door and laid his forehead against the cold steel, waiting for the voice to return and tell him what to do...

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

_A strange, buzzing noise began the dream... What started out grey and cloudy, cleared into a sudden image of metal, twisting...turning fast. The twisting metal soon met skin, and buried itself slowly; crimson dripping and splashing about as she heard the unmistakeable scream... a familiar voice...Tony..._

"Abby!" She was pulled from her sleep at the sound of McGee's voice, and she shot up from where she'd been laying on her futon in her office. "You okay? Looked like you were having a nightmare or something."

She looked at Tim's seemingly paled demeanor as she pulled herself back from her dream. "I _was_," she told him. "It was really creepy." She stood from the futon as he did, and made her way out into the lab.

"Have you been here all night?" he asked as he followed her.

"Yeah. I was working on something pretty late, and I didn't feel like driving home." She shuddered as she recalled the dream again.

"Well, I came down here because I need your help," McGee told her. "Something really hinky is going on. Tony's missing..."

"What?" she turned to face him; her eyes widened with terror. "Timmy...my dream! Tony was screaming! They were...doing something really really bad to him!"

"Abby, calm down!" he put his hands on his arms. "It was just a dream. We're not sure what's happened..."

"You don't understand," she pulled away. "Right before Kate died, I had a dream that there was blood all over Tony's face." Tim furrowed his brow as the recollection hit him. "Timmy, where's Gibbs?"

His focus came back to her. "He's gone, too." Abby stiffened. "Ziva's bringing back everything from Tony's apartment, where it seems he might've been taken from last night. Gibbs went for coffee, and I talked to the people who work there. They said he got into a brown van parked across the street. Abby, he called me and told me to talk to the barista. He knew we'd be investigating this. Wherever he is, I think he's with Tony now."

"We have to find them," her eyes darted around as she thought.

"The first thing we need to do is look at the footage from the security cam on that corner. If we can pick up a plate number from that van, we might be able to track where they went..."

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

Tony wasn't sure when he'd passed out, but he was grateful he had. The pain had been unbearable. But now he felt a cool, damp cloth wiping at his torso, and he opened his eyes to see what was going on. Green latex gloves covered the hand that was wiping the blood from his chest and stomach. He swallowed, noticing that the small holes had been filled with little metal posts that protruded a few centimeters from his skin... There were five of them; two in his chest on either side of his ribcage, and three in his abdomen; one above his bellybutton and two evenly place a few inches on either side of it.

They stung, but it was bearable; unlike the process of planting them. But he looked up, away from them, because for some reason, it hurt more to see them.

Once the masked man was finished cleaning him, the room was flooded with darkness. He felt the cold, metal table that he was retrained to, begin to elevate from where it once sat flat. It was standing him upright, and the straps that were holding him down, suddenly got a whole lot more uncomfortable.

He panicked in the darkness...unsure of what was to come. But he tried to force the thought away as he took mental note of his position. There was a strap, high across his chest, running across and down to the table just under his armpits. His hands were held down, but out to each side, reminding him somewhat of an execution table. His feet were against some kind of surface, allowing him to stand, but his ankles were restrained around his jeans, to the table.

_At least they left my pants on_, he thought. He recalled them cutting away his shirt from his body earlier... right before the drill... And he remembered the sound of his boss pounding against the door as he yelled for them to stop. His eyes drifted closed, afraid of what might happen next. Whoever Gibbs and he had pissed off this time, really meant business.

His eyes shot open when he heard movement. And the lights came on to reveal Gibbs being placed and restrained in a chair, not ten feet in front of Tony. Their eyes met, and Tony watched his boss as he discovered the mutilation they'd administered.

Gibbs stomach twisted in knots before meeting the apologetic eyes of his senior agent once more. "What the hell did you do to him?" his voice was rough with anger.

"Surely, this must seem somewhat familiar to you, Agent Gibbs," the voice that had once sounded over the speaker, now came from somewhere in the shadows beside him. "Think about it... that's the point of this, you know. This part, anyway."

Gibbs had a memory flash before his eyes; a case he'd worked on a few years back. They'd found a body; holes burned into his flesh, in the same positioning as they were on Tony right now. Ducky had ruled it as death by electrocution...

"This is how it works, Gibbs," the voice continued. "I'll ask you a question. My employee will flip a switch, causing electricity to run into your agent's body, until you answer." His explanation was given as the masked, gloved man began to hook wires with small clamps to the posts on Tony's body. "If you take too long to answer, he could very well die."

"I'll answer your damned questions," Gibbs told him. "You don't have to torture him to get them from me."

"That's not how it works. I make the rules, not you."

"If you wanna torture someone so bad, then do it to _me_! Leave him outta this!" he pulled at his restraints.

"I _am_ torturing you, Gibbs. Both of you." Gibbs swallowed at the truth in his words, and he met Tony's eyes again. He could tell his agent was clenching his teeth by the way his jaw muscles twitched. He was just as pissed and afraid as Gibbs was. "Let's begin," the man's words caused a numbing feeling to rise in Gibbs' chest. "Question number one; as I assume you remember the case, what is the name of the man you incarcerated for these crimes?" When his question was complete, the masked man flipped a switch, and Gibbs watched in horror as Tony's body jumped against the restraints; his face tightening against the flow...

"Griswald," Gibbs answered quickly. "Alex Griswald!" he elaborated before the man flipped the switch off. Tony's body settled back as his breath returned to him.

"Question two; how many years was he to serve for those crimes?" The switch flipped.

"Life!" he replied, then recalled the actual sentence, "Sixty-eight years!" The torture ceased for the moment.

"Final question... Who is responsible for his early demise?" the switch was flipped again, and Gibbs panicked.

"His demise?"

"Who killed him in prison?" the man asked more urgently.

"I- I didn't know he was dead..."

"Answer the question, Agent Gibbs!"

"I don't know the god-damned answer!" he yelled. "I wasn't told he was dead!" he watched, helplessly, as Tony writhed against the restraints. "This isn't fair! I can't answer the damned question, because I don't know!" his ears began to ring with fury. "Stop this, and I'll find the answer you're lookin' for!"

After a moment, the switch was turned off, and Tony's body fell completely limp against the restraints; his head hanging over, defeated. "Tony?" Gibbs called. With no reply, the masked man felt for a pulse and he looked over in the direction of the shadows and shook his head. "Godamnit!" Gibbs shouted. "You sonofabitch!"

"Get the paddles, and bring him back," the voice instructed the masked man. "We're not finished with him." Gibbs watched as the table was quickly lowered, and others came to assist. They pulled out the posts, then shocked him with defibrillator paddles.

Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief once Tony's chest rose and fell. The masked man turned and nodded to the shadows before cleaning up the mess they'd created on Tony's body.

"When you're finished cleaning him up, take him back to the box," the voice said.

Gibbs flashed with anger at the words, "What the hell is the point to this?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"The point," the voice said as he moved from the shadows so that Gibbs could see him, "Is to avenge my brother's unjustified death." As Gibbs took in the man's face, he narrowed his eyes, realizing that he was, in fact, the exact image of the man he'd put away...

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

**tbc...**


	3. Chapter 3

"There's no clear shot of the plates," Abby said with frustration as replayed the video. "And no prints, other than Tony's, on his stuff."

"This is so frustrating," Ziva said with her fingertips on her temples as she paced the lab.

"Assuming that Gibbs' disappearance has something to do with Tony's," McGee started, "We need to try and figure out where he was before he was so easily taken from his apartment. Yesterday evening, as we were leaving work, he asked if I wanted to grab a beer with him."

"He may have gone to the bar, then," Ziva said. "Perhaps he met someone there, or was followed."

"There's one place I know he usually goes to," Tim mentioned. "We can check there and see if anyone recalls seeing him."

"I think I've got someone you'd be interested in talking to, Agent McGee," they turned to Director Vance's voice as he entered the lab with a young man who looked a bit familiar to them. "He says he worked the morning shift at the cafe."

"I uh..." he stammered, "Someone gave me a note to give to Agent Gibbs," he told them. "I didn't realize when he got into the van, that it wasn't someone he knew..."

"Do you remember what this guy looked like?" McGee asked. The man nodded...

**oooooooooooooooooo000ooooooooooooooooooo**

"He was tortured before death, Agent Gibbs," Griswald told Gibbs as he watched them carry DiNozzo away. "Electrocuted, drugged; who knows what else...and then he was strangled to death."

"Much like his victims," Gibbs' eye twitched.

"Wrong," he replied, flatly. "My brother worked for me. He took one for the team."

"And you let him," Gibbs began to understand. "You let him take the fall for you."

"He was supposed to serve time. Not die."

"That's not my fault, or my agent's."

"Someone on the inside did this to him. Not another inmate," he told him with frustration slightly showing through.

"You think the guards..."

"He was electrocuted, Gibbs. How the hell is an inmate going to manage that? Acquire the necessary tools to do the amount of damage that was done..."

"It's possible," Gibbs told him. "But you're right. Sounds like an inside job. So what do you want _me_ to do about it?"

"Give me a name," he relied flatly.

Gibbs opened his mouth a moment before replying, "I don't have a name. I don't know those people. I investigate crimes and send them away. I don't do lunch with the warden!"

"Well, you should have investigated _this_!" Griswald slammed his fist into the wall right beside Gibbs' head. But Gibbs showed no sign of reaction to it.

"You should've asked."

"I'm asking you now!" he said through gritted teeth. Gibbs glared at him for a moment.

"You've taken my best agent and myself...how the hell am I supposed to investigate _anything_?"

"Your best agent and yourself, fucked up the first time. I'm not interested in your personal look into the matter. Call your director; tell him to figure it out..."

**ooooooooooooooooo000ooooooooooooooooooo**

"We matched the sketch taken from the barista's description of the suspect, to a Randall Ashaw," McGee told Vance as he put the photo on the big screen in the bullpen.

"He is an ex-Navy Lieutenant," Ziva added, "Dishonorably discharged in February of last year for distribution."

"I already put out a BOLO," Tim told him.

"Was Sciuto able to find an angle on the license plate of that van yet?" Vance asked.

"No, Sir," Tim shook his head, "But she's trying to access street cams in the area they were driving through, right now."

"And you've tried to locate Gibbs' GPS signal in his phone?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir...I've been monitoring it since we lost contact with him. But it's been turned off this whole time."

In that moment, Vance's cell began to ring, and he fished it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. "Unknown caller," he said, and signaled to McGee to record and set up a trace. "This is Vance," he said as he answered.

_"Leon,"_ Gibbs voice sounded from the other line.

Vance's brows raised, "We've been wondering what happened to you, Agent Gibbs."

_"Why weren't we told about the Griswald murder?"_

"Griswald murder?" he furrowed his brow.

_"Alex Griswald. Baskerville Correctional."_

"I'm not always made aware of every prison fight, Gibbs."

_"Well, ya need to be made aware of this one, Leon. See if there was an investigation, and check the possibility that it might've been an inside job."_

"Where are you?"

_"Not completely sure on that."_

"Is DiNozzo with you?"

_"He's here, yeah...It's really important, Leon, that you find the truth about what happened."_

"Care to elaborate why that is?" Vance asked after maneuvering to look at McGee's screen, seeing that the line was being bounced all over the place.

_"Because Tony's life is depending on it,"_ he told him. Vance straightened. _"Do me a favor; tell Ziva I'm sorry about Ari. Tell Abby to stop lookin', 'cause there's nothin' there. She needs to be helping you on this case now. And tell Tim it's fifteen minutes since my last cup of coffee. He better have some waiting for me when I get back... You've got six hours, Leon." _ The line disconnected.

"Couldn't get it," McGee told him.

"Voice-over IP, I know," Vance replied. "I think Gibbs was sending a message," he told them. "Ziva, he told me to tell you sorry about Ari. That mean anything to you?"

Her brow furrowed, "I do not see how it applies here," she answered.

Vance turned to McGee, "He said it's been fifteen minutes since his last cup of coffee. Told me to tell you that, specifically. And he told me to tell Abby to stop looking, because there's nothing there."

"He could've meant there were no plates on the van?" McGee suggested.

"Or that whomever is holding them now, is not the same man who abducted them," Ziva added.

"I need you to dig up the case on Alex Griswald. I'm gonna go make a phone call to Baskerville Correctional."

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

"What now?" Gibbs asked as he shifted against the discomfort of his bindings in the chair.

"Now we wait," Griswald replied.

"And then?"

Griswald walked away from Gibbs toward a locked cabinet on the wall. "That depends on whether they figure it out or not."

"They'll figure it out," Gibbs confirmed.

"Well, once they do, they'll need to give me a name."

"They'll make sure that whoever did it, is put away."

"I won't require the justice system in this case, Agent Gibbs. I want a name. What happens from that point is my business."

Gibbs shook his head, "They're not gonna do that. They can't."

"They'll have to," he said, calmly. "If they want you and your agent returned in one piece."

Gibbs held in any emotional reaction he felt at the possibility of what else they could do to Tony. "You really think they're going to negotiate with you?"

"You're going to have to convince them, or your agent will be slowly killed and you'll only be kept alive long enough to witness it."

"Why the hell don't you just let him go?" he asked, angrily. "You got the only answers I can give you! You don't need him anymore!"

"On the contrary, Gibbs, he's my insurance."

"Your _insurance_?" Gibbs squinted in confused frustration.

"What's happening to him, happened to my brother. And you, Gibbs...you get to feel how _I_ felt, knowing what had happened to him..."

"Wouldn't you have wanted to save him?" Gibbs asked in a more quiet voice.

"I wasn't given that chance. But that's what I've been giving _you_."

"But I'm not getting a fair chance, Griswald. I can't control what they do out there, when I'm tied up in _here_."

"You'll have the chance to help them," he said. "In the meantime, however, I don't believe Agent DiNozzo is enjoying his...position." He motioned for one of his masked men to come, and was handed one of the radio devices. "After my employees finished cleaning him up, they injected a high dose of PCP into his blood. For the first few moments, he probably felt relief. But I can assure you that that is no longer the case," he grinned as he turned the device on and held it up for Gibbs to hear.

At first, there was simple static. But as it began to clear, he could hear the obvious labored breathing of his senior agent, coupled with choked back, quiet sobbing.

"If he continues on like this, he'll run out of air soon," Griswald said as he clicked off the device and handed it back to his employee.

"Let me go to him," Gibbs asked as calmly as he was able. After a long moment, Griswald nodded to his employer, who then released his restraints and led him back to the cell.

He took a few steps in the dark before they turned on the light, and he hurried to the metallic chest in the middle of the room...

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

_Tony hated the box more than anything else that had happened in this place; Hated the fact that he was powerless to stop them from putting him in there. But probably most of all, he hated the uncertainty of whether or not he would ever get out of it again. _

_ He wasn't sure what they'd injected him with, and frankly hadn't been too concerned at that point... But then he started to hear static from the radio device inside the box-lid. And through the static, he started to hear things...voices..._

_ "No one's coming to get you..." the voice was a whisper. "They killed him. They killed Gibbs...he's not coming for you, Tony. No one's coming to save you..." The voices didn't stop, and were soon multiplied until he couldn't even understand what they were saying anymore..._

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

Gibbs looked down at Tony, whose eyes were squeezed tightly closed; face scrunched up with a painful expression. "Tony," Gibbs said softly, as he lay a hand on Tony's shoulder.

Tony opened his eyes, slowly turning his head to look up at his Boss through the bright, grazing rays of light that filled the once-dark void of his cell. "Am I dead?" Tony asked in barely a whisper.

Gibbs looked at him with narrowed eyes and shook his head, "No, Tony. You're not dead."

Tony closed his eyes again and hid his face, "Then...why can I see you? They told me you're dead..."

"Who told you that, Tony?"

"The voices..." he whispered. Gibbs felt a chill up his spine.

"They gave you PCP. Whatever you heard, whether they were bullshitting you over the radio, or it was in your head, it's not real. I'm not dead." Tony seemed to still be struggling. "You wanna get outta this box? Lemme help you."

Tony turned his head to look at him again, then slowly reached his hand up to Gibbs'. As he helped him out, and Tony's hands held onto Gibbs' shoulders, feeling he was real caused him to realize that it was the truth. "'m glad you're not dead, Boss," his voice cracked.

Gibbs smirked, "Me too, I guess." He stood there for a moment, allowing Tony to gain whatever balance he could. His eyes wandered to the crudely stitched-up holes on his chest and stomach, and he clenched his jaw as he recalled what they'd done to him...

Tony caught Gibbs looking, and he looked down at himself. But instead of stitches, to Tony, he saw something else...each insect-looking creature began to crawl over his skin, and he immediately backed away, swiping at them. But they wouldn't come off...and suddenly they were all over him, and he couldn't stop it... "What are these things!" he yelled, backing all the way into the corner.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs went after him.

"Get 'em off me! They won't come off!" he started to dig into his own skin, desperately trying to rid of the creatures. He could feel their legs squirming all over his body...crawling up onto his face... And he gauged his nails down the front of his face, leaving red, bloody streaks in their path, until he felt strong hands around his wrists, pulling them away. He realized, then, that Gibbs was talking to him...trying to tell him something... "Please, Boss, they won't come off!"

"Tony, listen to me!" he pressed him up against the wall to stop him from harming himself any further. "There's nothin' on you! It's the PCP makin' you think that! What you saw on your chest was the stitches. That's all. Are you listening to me?"

"B-but I can...f-feel them on me..."

"It's not real, Tony. Look at me," he watched as Tony's green, anguished eyes met his. "You're okay." He slowly loosened his grip on his wrists, and Tony's hands instinctively grabbed Gibbs' arms in effort to hold himself up. "You're okay, Tony," he repeated, taking Tony's face in his hands. "You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear ya, Boss," he said, shakily. Feeling that Tony was barely able to stay upright, he helped him to slowly ease down to the floor and sat close beside him to make sure he wouldn't end up hurting himself again. "Can't feel anything..." Tony mumbled as he looked at his bloodied fingernails.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Gibbs told him, then pushed Tony's hands out of the agent's view.

After a few steadying breaths, Tony looked at Gibbs, "Are we gonna get outta here?" his voice was like that of a child. Gibbs looked at him for a moment, then nodded, though he didn't truly know the answer...

**ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo**

**tbc...**


	4. Chapter 4

Tim and Ziva stood in front of the big screen in the bullpen as they went over the Griswald case."Okay, so...Griswald confessed to the murder of two Petty Officers that Gibbs was investigating," McGee said. "And it says he was killed by another inmate at Baskerville Correctional, whom they've so far been unable to figure out. But the investigation into _that_ was closed."

"But what does this have to do with who took Tony and Gibbs?" Ziva questioned. "Who would feel so strongly about figuring out who killed Griswald, to kidnap two federal officers?"

McGee's eyes darted around in thought. "Maybe it's someone who can't push the issue; someone who might've been involved in the original crime?"

"Then we need to go back to the beginning. What other suspects were there?"

"Griswald claimed to have no assistance, but that doesn't necessarily mean he didn't." He began to flip through the file on the screen and was distracted slightly by the dinging of the elevator, habitually looking back to see who was entering the floor. "What's Fornell doing here?" he asked in a hushed voice. Ziva turned as Tobias Fornell and two other FBI agents walked into the bullpen.

"Saw you put a BOLO out on Randall Ashaw," Fornell said. "He's been on our watch list. What do you have on him?"

"Kidnapping, for the moment," Ziva told him.

"We're trying to figure out who would want us to investigate into Alex Griswald's murder," McGee explained.

"But why are _you_ investigating that?" Fornell asked. "It's not NCIS jurisdiction anymore."

"It is _now_," Vance said as he entered the bullpen. Fornell turned to face him. "Two of my agents are being held prisoner at an unknown location until we figure out who killed him."

"What agents?"

"Gibbs and DiNozzo," Vance replied, and Tobias stiffened.

"Ashaw's involved in this?" Fornell asked.

"He was seen driving away with Gibbs in an unmarked brown van this morning," Tim pulled the photo up on the screen.

"What about DiNozzo?" he asked as his eyes narrowed at the screen.

"We believe he was taken sometime late last night," Vance told him. "But what we need to know, is who the hell wants us to investigate this so bad."

Fornell's eyes darted in the air between them in thought. "Any known associates? Family, maybe?"

At this, Ziva's mind began turning. "The message Gibbs gave," she began. "Does Griswald have a brother?"

McGee's brow furrowed. "It wasn't indicated in the file...but..." he went to his computer and began typing. "An older brother," he said after a few moments, then brought the file up on the screen. "Harvey Ian Griswald. No serious priors. Seems clean..."

"Find out where he is," Vance told him. "I wanna know where this guy lives, what he does for a living, and every damn car he's driven in the past five years. I'm heading out to Baskerville."

"Not without us," Fornell told him, causing Vance to stop in his tracks and turn to face the agent again.

"With all due respect, Agent Fornell, this is our jurisdiction," Leon told him.

"Griswald is _our_ jurisdiction, Director. But we'll gladly work with you on the investigation. Besides, with Gibbs and DiNutso gone, you're gonna need a little extra help."

With a smirk, Vance nodded, then looked over at McGee and Ziva, "You find anything, you call me. Don't go rushing in anywhere without backup."

As Vance resumed pace toward the elevator, Tobias turned toward Gibbs' remaining agents, "If this guy is anything like his brother, you best watch your back on. I don't know how much you read about the crimes he committed, but they were pretty gruesome." He paused a moment to look back at the screen where Gibbs' photo in the van still remained. "You find them," he told them. "I've got a feeling this isn't gonna end pretty, even if we figure this Baskerville thing out." With that, he turned and joined his agents and Vance in the elevator.

When Ziva turned to look at McGee, he was squinting in thought. "What is it, McGee?" she asked.

"Something Gibbs said...fifteen minutes since he'd had coffee. But that doesn't make sense. By the time he called, it was well over an hour he'd been gone." After another moment, his eyes seemed to clear, and he made his way back to the keyboard. "Maybe he was telling us it took fifteen minutes to get to wherever they took him," he pulled up a grid-map. "All streets leading away from that corner are thirty mile-per-hour zones. At fifteen minutes, that gives us roughly an eight-mile radius..."

**ooooooooooooooo 000oooooooooooo oooo**

Gibbs watched over Tony as he slept curled on the floor on his side; his back facing Gibbs. His dreams were obviously disturbing, but he didn't dare wake him, in fear that it might be even worse. But he felt awful as he watched him shiver, hugging his arms around himself. Tony breathed in shaky breaths; labored as though he were running.

In the moments that seemed the darkest, Gibbs would lay a comforting hand on his back or shoulder; sometimes pet over the back of his head...anything that would draw him the tiniest bit away from the terrors.

He wasn't sure how long they'd been in there, at this point. But it'd seemed endless. He closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and then his temples, in attempt to ease some of the throbbing pain in his head. Silently, he prayed that his agents had gotten the messages he'd given, and interpreted them accordingly. It didn't matter what they found out in Baskerville; what they needed to do, was to find out where they were being held. In the end, they'd have to come and rescue them. There was no way around it...

Gibbs was pulled from his thoughts when he heard movement on the other side of the door. He pushed himself up to stand in defense as five masked men entered, weapons drawn. Two of them headed for Tony and Gibbs tried to hold them off, but he was immediately pulled back by two others, and a gun was pointed at him.

"It's time, Agent Gibbs," one of them said as Tony was thrust from his sleep by the men pulling him up.

"You let him be!" Gibbs told them as Tony met his eyes. But the men ignored him and dragged Tony toward the box.

That's when Tony began to struggle wildly against them. "No..." his voice cracked. "No, don't put me back in there!" The men picked him up off the ground completely as he flailed his limbs in attempt to fight them off.

"Let him go!" Gibbs struggled against the men that held him. But he couldn't free himself; he couldn't get to his distraught senior agent who seemed more terrified than he'd ever seen him before.

"Ple-he-hease!" Tony cried out as the shoved him down into the box, cruelly. "Boss, please! Help me!"

"It'll be okay, Tony," Gibbs' voice cracked. "I promise you!" The lid was slammed shut against Tony's sobs of fear, and the men dragged Gibbs out of the room before clothing the cell in darkness once more...

**ooooooooooooooo 000oooooooooooo oooo**

"You were the only guard on duty in that sector the night Griswald was murdered," Fornell said to the Baskerville guard in the make-shift interrogation room. "I can't help but to wonder why that is..."

"Supposed to be two guards per sector at night," Vance added.

"Davidson called in sick," the guard told them. "Didn't have time to call anyone else in. Didn't seem like such a big deal at the time."

"We talked to Davidson," Fornell said. "He says you gave him the night off; sent him home early."

The guard swiped a hand down his face, taking a nervous breath. "I dunno what the big deal is, guys," he said. "So some sick fuck got knocked off. The way I see it, they did the world a favor."

"Maybe so," Fornell said. "But that doesn't excuse murder."

"I dunno why you're talkin' to me about it," the guard said. "You saw the video; I did my rounds and I came back into the office and watched TV for an hour. Then I went for rounds again and found him dead in his cell."

"Pretty convenient," Vance said. "All the cells were locked, and no murder weapon found on the scene. You may not have killed Griswald, but you sure as hell had something to do with it."

"You have no proof of that," the guard smirked as he shook his head.

"I've got two agents searching your home right now," Fornell told him. "You sure there's nothing you wanna tell us?" The guards eyes darted around for a moment, nervously.

"Things aren't lookin' too good for you, right now," Vance said. "Lying to us about Davidson; withholding evidence..."

"Look," the guard leaned forward in his chair. "If I give you a name, do I get some kinda deal?"

Fornell's lips turned up on each side, "We've already got a name. He told us you set the whole thing up. Arranged for his and Griswald's cells to be unlocked, everything he needed to do the job, and the evidence to all be removed so there was no way it could lead back to him."

The guard swallowed, audibly, and slowly sank back in his chair. Vance approached him, "Again, we have to ask, are you sure there's nothin' you wanna tell us?"

The guard crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "I want a lawyer..."

**ooooooooooooooo 000oooooooooooo oooo**

"I narrowed down the search criteria according to the direction the van took off in," Abby told Ziva and McGee as they looked at her computer screen. "Which narrowed down the number of security footage I need to look through. If we split it up between the three of us, we could be through it within the hour."

"Gibbs specifically said for you to stop looking for this car, no?" Ziva mentioned.

"I don't think that's what he meant, Ziva," Abby told her. "He said there was nothing there. That could mean there were no tags. No way to find who it belonged to, which makes sense because Ashaw didn't have any vehicles registered in his name."

"It could also mean that it's no longer out in the open," McGee added in his thoughtful state. "That we can't track it via ID. Maybe he was pointing us in _this_ direction; telling us that we needed to follow the video feed and find where it stopped."

"Which would mean it was inside," Abby said.

"Like a garage," Ziva guessed.

"Yeah, but most likely not a house. They planned all of this out. They'll be somewhere they can't be seen or heard. No windows; possibly underground," Abby said as she typed.

"I'll take the computer in your office," Ziva said, "If you will send over the third of the footage there."

"Okay. Timmy, you can take this one," Abby said as she reached over to the mouse on the second computer beside hers and closed the unused programs before sending over the footage. She sent a quick glance his way as Ziva entered the office space, and noticed he was preoccupied in thought. "What's wrong?" she asked him.

His eyes focused on hers, "The Griswald case we went over today...the way he was killed was a similar fashion in which he killed his victims. I can't help but to think his brother was part of it. The way he had all of this organized, it seems like he's got plenty of experience." He took a few breaths before continuing. "What if..." he began, but couldn't even let the thought continue. He didn't want to worry Abby further. "Do you think they're gonna be okay?" he decided on, and said softly.

Her eyes darted around as she chewed her bottom lip. "You didn't find much of a sign of struggle at Tony's apartment," she reminded him. "And the footage of Gibbs, well it seems like he went willingly. They didn't fight him. So, they're probably fine..." she turned back to her monitor.

But McGee knew better. He saw the fear in her eyes, and knew the self-convincing tone she'd said those words in. "Abby...we're gonna find them," he assured her. She nodded without looking away from the monitor. Then the computer in front of him beeped, indicating the file transfer was complete, and he turned to it to get to work.

**Ooooooooooooooo 000oooooooooooo oooo**

Vance drove much faster than the allotted speed limit; Fornell's car tagging close behind. His cell began to ring, as he'd expected, and he put it on speaker. "Vance."

_"Figure it out, Leon?"_ Gibbs' voice sounded over the speaker, raspy and clearly pissed.

"One of the guards set it up, but it was an inmate who killed him," he was sure to be vague. "How're you two holding up over there?"

_"He wants names," _Gibbs told him. _"We're not getting outta here without them."_

"The moment I give you the names, is the moment we lose negotiability. What's keepin' him from killin' the both of you if he gets what he wants?"

_"The longer he waits, the closer to death DiNozzo gets,"_ his tone was pained.

"Even if I gave you the name, the guy's been locked up until the trial. He's protected, Gibbs, and there's no way he's gonna get to him. If it were up to me, I'd have delivered both of them, myself. But it's not."

_"All he wants are names, Leon. What happens from there doesn't matter."_

"I'll talk to Fornell," he told him. "And you tell him to call me back when we can make the arrangements to make a trade. I'm not doin' a damn thing until I know we'll get you both out of there alive."

There was a long moment of silence on the other line; unexplained noises in the background. Then a different voice sounded from the speaker, obviously masked with some kind of voice encryption. _"Just remember, Director Vance...the longer you wait, the more likely you won't be seeing you agents alive again. I'll contact you in an hour." _The line went dead. Vance cursed aloud, banging his hand against the steering wheel...

**ooooooooooooooo 000oooooooooooo oooo**

"Why won't you let me go to my agent?" Gibbs said as he struggled against his restraints in the chair. "You've got the upper-hand and we're not goin' anywhere. Why the hell do you need to make him suffer?"

"Because I can," he said flatly. "And I want to. I like watching you squirm. It makes me...feel a little better."

"If you like watchin' me squirm, then do somethin' to _me_! Leave him outta this. Let him go."

Griswald grinned widely, "See? It's working perfectly." He turned to leave, but Gibbs called out.

"Answer me somethin', before you leave me here," he said and watched Griswald halt in his steps, but not turn to face him. "Your brother took one for the team; basically helped keep your cover. Doing this, though, you've given yourself away. They know now that Alex wasn't the right man, and now they'll be lookin' for someone they didn't even know was still out there. Why'd you do it? Why'd you give up your position?"

Griswald didn't turn around, but Gibbs could see as the man's head dropped forward a bit. "He _was_ the right man, Agent Gibbs," he told him. "Alex was the heart of this business. He's the one who found the clients; made sure we were always well funded for what we were hired to do. I'm just the breaker. I finished the jobs...and I took great satisfaction in doing so. But without him, business is slow..."

Even through the apathetic words being spoken, Gibbs could tell there was something more to what the man was saying. "You feel guilty about what happened to him," Gibbs chanced, calmly, and was surprised when the man still did not turn around. "He died by the same sick ritual that brings you some kinda pleasure. So you feel responsible...unless...you feel regretful?" This caused Griswald to visibly straighten where he stood. "You regret that it wasn't you who did it."

"You think I wanted to kill my brother?" his voice was quiet.

"I think you didn't know you wanted to, till someone else did. Because you're sick, Griswald. You obviously cared about him, but you're pissed off." Gibbs suddenly dawned with a realization, "You're mad at yourself for wanting to be the one to kill him, and now you don't know how to deal with that. And you think you'll be able to fix all that by avenging his death. In a way, you're killing _yourself_."

Griswald's eyes shone with the rough assessment he was given. He had honestly thought that no one would've understood that. He'd barely understood those feelings, himself. "You're a very good investigator, Agent Gibbs," he said softly; his back still facing the agent. "I do hope your director thinks as highly of you. It would be a shame if..." his thoughts drifted off and he walked away without finishing them.

Gibbs was beyond frustrated as he watched the man disappear out of the room. He wanted to go to Tony; wanted to somehow talk Griswald into allowing him to do so. But now there seemed to be no chance of that. As his eyes scanned over the room, he saw the few scattered masked-men standing guard. Glancing in the direction of their cell, where Tony was still shut in, he felt his heart sink in his chest. He closed his eyes, hoping; praying that Tony would get out of this somehow...

**ooooooooooooooo 000oooooooooooo oooo**

**tbc...**


	5. Chapter 5

_Tony couldn't get the image of the demonic figures that stuffed him into the box, out of his head. The immediate relation of the dark, shadowy figures from the movie, 'Ghost', had always freaked him out a bit, secretly. And had he not been so completely terrified, he would've made a clever quote in effort to defuse the seriousness of the situation. After all, it's what he did...it's what he always did when things got scary. _

_ But those shadowy figures that held him, in combination with the immense fear of being in that damned box, rendered him completely useless. He'd felt like he could barely breathe before he'd been put in the box again. Now it was even worse. Folded unnaturally, muscles cramping in his stomach, he couldn't focus on any one thing. _

_ The creepy image of the offending creatures that put him in the box, reappeared in his mind whenever he closed his eyes. So he desperately tried to keep them open, although the level of darkness was just as hopeless. He tried to ignore the strange sounds that began to stir around him; remembering what his boss had told him about being drugged. It was all in his head...all in his head..._

_ The voices that called to him now...all in his head. "I'm sorry, Tony," it was Gibbs' voice. "I can't keep my promise. I can't save you..."_

_ "Please don't leave me here, Boss..." he was ashamed of the sound of tears in his own voice._

_ "I have to, Tony. There's no way out..."_

_ "There's always a way out," he recited shakily. But there was no response. He felt a pang in his chest. "Boss?"_

_ "I have to go," came the final reply._

_ "No, Boss...please don't leave me!" he cried. The silence was deafening. It made his ears burn with the pounding beat of his heart, and it was hardest to breathe now, more than ever. He wanted to cry out; call out to him...convince him to come back so he wasn't alone. But his voice came as a whisper; unable to even form a single word. So his thoughts would have to suffice. 'It's all in my head...all in my head...all in my head...'_

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111**

"Tell me you've got something," Vance said as he entered Abby's lab with Fornell.

McGee turned toward them, "Harvey Griswald has no known current address or any registered vehicles. But we've managed to track most of Ashaw's journey."

"I'm still uploading footage for the street we saw him turn down," Abby told him. The computer beeped, as if on cue. "Here we go," she said as she pulled up the surveillance clip and clicked play. They all looked closely at the street as cars drove past. But they saw no sign of the van. "I don't understand," Abby said as she rewound and replayed. "This is the correct time-stamp, and the van turned the corner right before this video."

"Well you must've missed something, Abs," McGee said as he took over the mouse and clicked back.

"Excuse me?" Abby snarled and Tim turned to see the furious look on her face and immediately backed away.

"I uh...I mean..._we_ must have overlooked something..." he stumbled.

"This is the closest street cam from that corner, McGee," she said. "The only possibility is that they stopped between that corner and where this cam is set up."

"That's Anchorage Boulevard, isn't it?" Fornell asked.

"Yeah," McGee told him. "The street he turned off of is 5th."

"There's an abandoned car garage near there," he told them. "It's got a basement level under it where they could reach the underbelly of cars without a lift. Pretty sure there's storage under there, too."

"Let's head over there," Vance said. "We'll check it out without approaching the building till we know for sure they're in there. He's supposed to call about the trade; we'll keep post until then, and when they move out, that's when we can take them down. Where's Agent David?" he asked as he looked around the lab.

"She uh...went down to talk to Ducky," Tim told him.

"What for?" Vance narrowed his eyes.

"To go over the autopsy reports of the Griswald victims," he replied. When they continued to look at him for elaboration, he glanced briefly at Abby before looking at them again. "She wants to know what we might have to be prepared for...if we..." he swallowed, "If we're too late..."

"Don't you _dare_ say that, McGee!" Abby punched his arm.

"Ow, Abby!" he rubbed the sore spot as he looked at her with a furrowed brow, and they watched from their peripheral vision as the older men silently left the room.

"We're _not_ gonna be too late!"

"Do you think I _want_ that to happen?" he retorted angrily. "Do you think I'm any less scared than you are?" his voice cracked, and she saw the glassiness in his eyes.

Suddenly, her features softened and her own eyes collected tears before she threw her arms around him. "Oh, Timmy...I'm sorry," she whispered. "Go." She pulled gently away. "Bring them home..."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111**

_"Vance,"_ the director's voice rang from the speaker of the phone that Griswald held in front of Gibbs' face.

"You ready to make the trade, Leon?" Gibbs asked, as directed.

_"What's the plan, Gibbs?"_

"He's gonna give me a phone with a GPS locator," he told him. "He's gonna leave here, then call you, at which point you'll need to give him a name. In trade, he'll give you the number to the phone he's leavin' with me. I can't make out-going calls, so you won't be able to find us until you've got the number and can call me."

_"How long before he leaves?"_

Gibbs looked up at Griswald, who in turn stood. "Looks like it'll be real soon," Gibbs replied. "He also mentioned that if the name you give him is wrong, this'll happen again, and a lot of innocent people will die. So I hope you're givin' him the right name..."

_"Got two of 'em, actually. Tell him we're ready when he is. I hope to see you soon, Agent Gibbs."_

"Back at ya, Director." Griswald ended the call and reached down to release Gibbs' restraints.

"You'll be returning to your cell, which I'm sure you're pleased about. I'll be leaving immediately. Here's the phone," he handed him a small black cell phone and motioned for one of the masked men to come lead him to the cell. "The door can only open from the outside. So I hope your agents will be able to track you without a problem." Harvey's calm, emotionless demeanor caused Gibbs to believe the man was actually feeling relieved that this would soon be over.

"Before you go," Gibbs needed to ask, "When you've finished avenging your brother, what will you do?" he heard the door to the cell opening behind him.

A small smile played on Griswald's lips as he motioned for his guard to leave. "It turns out that I'm quite ill, Agent Gibbs," he told him. "So, I suppose I'll be going away...to die." Gibbs narrowed his eyes for a moment as he backed into his cell. "Thank you for your help," Harvey told him, sincerely. "And...I am ...sorry," he seemed pained to say the words as he shut the door and clicked the lock in place.

Once the lights came on, Gibbs rushed to the box, throwing open the latches and lifted the lid. "Tony..." he reached down to his senior agent. Tony's eyes were open and fixed in front of him, but he didn't respond to Gibbs' voice. "Come on, DiNozzo," he squeezed his shoulder in attempt to gain his attention. But he didn't respond; didn't even seem to be aware he was there.

Gibbs felt a shiver run through his body. Tony was breathing shallowly; pulse quick and weak. Gibbs began to pull him out of the box, careful not to cause him and further harm. Even this movement didn't bring a response from him, and Gibbs was suddenly hit with an overwhelming feeling of dread.

Tony's skin felt cold to the touch as he pulled him into his lap and scooted them back against the wall. "Tony, come on," his voice cracked as he cradled his agent's head against his chest with one hand, securing his other around his back. "They're gone now... Need ya to come back to me."

Tony's eyes closed and he let out what sounded like something between a cough and a sob. Gibbs felt Tony's hand come up to clench the front of his shirt, as if making sure this was real, and clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping him from going back to a bad place.

"Everything's gonna be okay," Gibbs told him as he petted down the side of Tony's head. Then he heard him let out a struggled sob, immediately sucking in a shaky breath as he squeezed closer to his boss. "I've got you, Tony," Gibbs reassured him, feeling his own heart sink even further in his chest, and tears stung his eyes. "It's gonna be okay..."

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111**

Ziva and McGee sat in the car behind the closed down car shop. There were three teams out front in unmarked SUVs. But Gibbs' agents' job was to go in and retrieve the hostages once Griswald and his men left the building.

Ziva had been unusually silent since they'd left the NCIS garage. It heightened Tim's nerves even more than they'd already been. "Are you okay?" he asked her, finally.

She looked at him briefly, before returning her eyes to the rear of the building. "I am fine," she told him. After a few moments of silence, she looked over at him again. "Are you?"

"I will be," he replied. "As soon as we get them out of there." She nodded in agreement. "Did Ducky tell you anything we didn't already know from the report?"

"No," she replied quickly. "But he explained a few things I did not realize. For instance, none of Griswald's victims survived..." her gaze turned out her window for a moment. "And the condition in which the bodies were discovered, suggested that they had been contorted in an unnatural position for an extended period of time. I was not exactly clear as to what that meant, but he told me that they had most likely been held in a very small space, like a cage or suitcase."

"Yeah...one of the first bodies was left inside a mini-fridge. Griswald killed at least eight people before they put him away. Well...before they put one of them away, anyway. Gibbs didn't get the case until they found those Petty Officers." He had to stop talking as the thought made his stomach queasy.

But their thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the radio static as Vance's voice signaled them. _"Three vehicles just exited the garage. We're going to pursue. David, McGee; enter with caution."_

"On it, Boss," McGee replied, flinching at his own words before they exited the car and approached the building. As they stealthily made their way toward the front of the building, Tim pulled out his phone and dialed Ducky's number. "We're headed inside, Ducky," he told him when he answered. "It's safe for you to bring the van closer to the building now."

_"I've got an ambulance on stand-by as well, Timothy. Good luck, my boy. I'll be right behind you once you've given us the clear."_

McGee put his phone away as they entered through the garage door with weapons drawn. They made quick search of the empty space before entering into the stairwell. Once they reached the basement level, McGee went through the open door first, quickly scanning from side to side before motioning for Ziva to follow. The room was dim, but not too dark that they couldn't have seen a person in the room.

Ziva found the light switch panel and flicked them on. McGee had made his way across the room by this time, and when the lights lit up that part of the room, he saw the metallic table fitted with restraints. Beside it, a tray containing small, bloody, metal posts, and a drill with a bloodied drill bit. His stomach turned and his eyes fell upon the voltage machine, causing him to put together what had happened there.

Quickly, he pulled himself away from the area and resumed the search. Ziva called to him from across the room, "Every room is open and empty except for this one."

"Call Ducky," Tim told her as he approached the door and turned the lock. Ziva picked up her phone to dial. McGee pushed the door open; eyes darting around to make sure no one else was in there, before settling on his team members. He swallowed as he holstered his gun and approached them. He heard himself tell Gibbs that Ducky was right behind them and an ambulance was on its way. But his eyes scanned them over, realizing that Gibbs, other than looking completely exhausted, seemed unharmed. But Tony... his face covered in dried blood from scratches; his chest and stomach revealed that he was the recipient of the torture devices he'd seen in the other room. Remnants of stitching pulled out from each wound, surrounded by more dried blood, and some not so dry.

But what worried him most of all was how his paled body was shaking in Gibbs' arms. Tim slowly crouched down in front of them, meeting Gibbs' eyes with a furrowed brow, and noticing a rarely seen fear in the man's expression. "Boss...is he okay?" he asked as quietly as he could. Gibbs responded with a barely noticeable shake of his head. Tim blinked as he processed that. Then reached a hand to Tony's shoulder for barely a moment, and flinched back when Tony immediately recoiled, pulling closer to Gibbs with a whimper.

"It's okay, Tony," Gibbs reassured him. "Just McGee. He's here to help us." Tim stood and backed away slightly as Tony mumbled something apparently only Gibbs could understand. "They're not gonna put you back in the box," Gibbs said quietly as he petted the side of his head in attempt to calm him again.

McGee's eyes darted back and forth as he processed that statement, then looked over beside them and saw the box. It took him less then a moment to understand. As he looked back over at Tony, he had to blink back tears before turning away to leave the room, just as Ducky rushed in. He stood up against the wall just outside the open door, out of sight so he could swipe at his eyes. He listened as Gibbs explained what happened to Tony, in detail.

Tony had spent the first six or so hours of his captivity, in that box. Was drilled into; electrocuted to the point of tachycardia and brought back; injected with a high dose of PCP before being shoved back into that box; suffered hallucinatory terror, causing him to reopen his wounds and cause the many tears in his own skin; then crudely shoved back into that box for hours before they allowed Gibbs to come get him out again.

Tim didn't notice Ziva standing in front of him until he felt her hand on his arm. "They got them," she told him. "Griswald and his men have been captured. Vance is handing the scene to Fornell's team," she told him. "He feels we should allow them to bag and tag, and he wants us to go home. He says we can wait until tomorrow to fill out our report."

After a few moments of allowing her words to register, he nodded in acknowledgment. EMTs made their way into the sub-level and they moved out of the way so they could make their way into the cell. Just as Tim and Ziva were going to head upstairs, they heard Tony yell out.

"No...no, don't!"

"Tony, it's okay," Gibbs tried to calm him.

"Don't let 'em put me back in there, Boss! Please!"

"Sshh, Tony, they're not gonna hurt you." They looked into the room from a distance, watching as Tony clung to their boss in fear; Ducky telling the medics that they should sedate him for the ride to the hospital, as Gibbs tried desperately to calm the distraught agent. They kept watching as Tony fought against being injected; Gibbs, Ducky and the other EMT holding him still in order for them to succeed. And soon, Tony's body became lax; the medics guiding him gently to the stretcher before securing safety straps around his body.

"I'm stayin' with him, Duck," Gibbs said as they followed behind the stretcher.

"It's probably a good idea, Jethro. Though I do suggest you allow them to check you over. You've been through a lot."

"I haven't been through anything. Tony was the only one they touched," his voice cracked.

"And they forced you to witness it all," Ducky said.

"I don't need you to remind me that," he replied. The doctor decided against arguing further, despite the fact that his friend had suffered a great deal more than he'd admit to, trying to talk him into being seen, would only prove to further aggravate him.

But he did pause at the bottom of the steps and turn toward the two younger agents. "Go home and get some rest," the M.E told them. "I'll notify you if anything should happen." But when the agents seemed unconvinced, he took a step toward them and lay a hand on one of each of their shoulders. "You found them in time," he reassured them. "You did a remarkable job today. Things could've gone...so much worse. Anthony will heal with time. But he needs the two of you; so take care of yourselves...go get some rest. I'll look after them both..."

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**tbc...**


	6. Chapter 6

Gibbs went to the sink after relieving himself, and washed his hands. It was only then that he realized the redness around his wrists from his struggling against the restraints. Then, as he looked in the mirror, he saw the tracks of blood from when he restrained Tony in the cell. The memory flashed fresh in his mind; the fear in his senior agent's eyes...the terrified screams as they'd shoved him back into that box...

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a hand on his arm, and he saw Ducky beside him in the mirror. "Timothy brought this by for you," he told him, and Gibbs looked down to see his overnight bag in Ducky's hand. "Anthony's as well. I put it in his room."

"They're done lookin' him over?" he asked as he took the bag and set it on the counter, opening it to fetch a clean shirt.

"Not quite, but they've readied his room. They're giving him an antibody called Fab. It should eliminate the PCP from his body." The bloody shirt was rolled up and shoved into the bag.

"They find anything we should be worried about?" he asked as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.

"They're running some tests to check for any heart damage," the doctor explained. "He's been fitted with a nasal cannula so that they can get his O2 levels up."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, "Was there damage to his lungs?"

"Nothing that won't heal. His shallow breathing was most likely from shock. But that, and his heart rate, should improve once the PCP has been eliminated." He paused for a moment as Gibbs zipped the bag and picked it up, heading to leave the hospital restroom. "Jethro," he followed him, "I do wish you'd try and eat something. You were held there a better part of the day and I'm fairly certain you've eaten nothing since dinner yesterday evening."

"Not really hungry, Duck," he paused in his journey. "Where's his room?"

"This way," he led him up the hall. "And you may not _feel_ hungry, given the circumstances, but I'm certain you're probably dehydrated. At least drink something."

"Coffee."

"If it were anyone else, I'd recommend against it," he smirked. "But seeing as you've only had the one today, it might be worse to refuse." Ducky stopped just outside the room and allowed Gibbs to enter. "I'll go to the cafeteria and get you some coffee. They should be bringing Anthony in soon."

Gibbs set his bag down on the floor beside the chair and looked around the room before sitting down. He took a deep breath, trying to will himself to relax; be patient. He scratched the back of his head, feeling restless, then stood again and began to pace the room. The restlessness, of course, was because he was trying desperately to keep the day's events from replaying in his mind.

He heard a sound in the hall before Tony was wheeled in on a hospital bed. Gibbs moved out of the way as they rolled the bed into position and locked the wheels. He watched as they set up the various tubes and IV lines, and a doctor approached him. "Agent Gibbs?" he asked, glancing down at the clipboard he held.

"Yeah."

"We have you listed as Agent DiNozzo's next of kin."

Gibbs nodded, "Did you find anything wrong with his heart?"

"We haven't detected any permanent damage in his heart or lungs," he told him. "He was extremely dehydrated though, so we have him on fluids. We've also got him on antibiotics and gave him an updated tetanus shot, in light of how he received the injuries on his torso. We cleaned and patched him up...the stitching they'd attempted to do, as I'm sure you're already aware, was crude, at best. And I'm going ahead to assume he pulled the stitches out himself, in accordance with the scratches all over his upper body. I've seen similar PCP-related incidents. The chemical should be out of his system completely, hopefully, by tomorrow morning if not sooner. In light of what happened, Agent Gibbs, I suggest he speak with a counselor at some point. We have one available here, if he chooses."

"I'll ask him about it once he's up," Gibbs told him. "How long will he need to stay here?" He knew his agent's feelings about hospitals.

"Well, I'd like to keep him here for at least 24 hours for observation. After that, if we do an examination and he seems to have no further complications, he can leave if he has someone to stay with him. The psychological trauma is what we're mostly concerned about." Gibbs nodded in agreement. "If you have any more questions, feel free to have me paged," the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Wheeler, by the way."

"Nice to meet you," Gibbs shook the offered hand.

"I'll be in a bit later to check on him," he took him with a brief, small smile before turning to walk out.

Gibbs turned to face Tony's bed again, appraising the sleeping agent. There was a single nurse left, adjusting the IV bags. Gibbs narrowed his eyes as he saw the restraints around Tony's wrists. Another memory flashed into his mind; Tony's body restrained on the metal table as electricity coursed cruelly through his body, then falling limp and lifeless...

"Why is he being restrained?" he asked the nurse as he approached the side of the bed.

She looked at him, "It's for his own good. He could wake up and hurt himself further."

"But he's sedated," he argued.

"Yes, he will be until morning," she replied.

"Then why can't we take them off? They're aware of what happened to him, right? He was restrained and tortured... I'll be here with him at all times..."

She considered his words carefully, glancing down at the patient for a moment before looking at him again. "You're the one who was with him?" she concluded. He nodded. "I'll talk to the doctor. I can't make that call, but I'm sure he'll allow it."

"Thank you," he told her before she turned to leave. He pulled the chair up closer to the bed and sat as he appraised his agent. They'd cleaned him up well. Tony looked much better than before he'd gone in with the doctors. Gibbs was grateful Tony was sedated, looking down once again to the restraints.

It was almost hard to believe it had been a couple of hours since he'd pulled him from the box for the last time. He wondered how much of that intense fear was from the drugs... how Tony would be when he finally woke from that nightmare.

"Agent Gibbs?" he looked up to see Dr. Wheeler as he entered the room again. Gibbs stood. "Gail told me you thought it best to remove the restraints. I agree, his waking and realizing he's tied down could cause further trauma. I'll allow the removal, but I'm gonna have to hold you to your promise that you'll be here with him, if not someone else, at all times. If you have to leave, even just to go to the restroom, you'll need to put them back on until you return. It's just a precaution, but I can't tell you how many people I've seen worsen their injuries during a PCP-related incident."

Ducky stood in the doorway for a moment before entering, "I assure you that either myself or Agent Gibbs will be here at all times," he told the doctor. Gibbs wasted no time removing the restraint on Tony's wrist on that side of the bed as the doctor removed the other.

Gibbs gave an appreciative nod to Wheeler as Ducky gave him his coffee. "Thanks, Doc," he told Wheeler before the man headed out once more. "Ducky, you don't have to stay," he told him as he sank back into the chair.

"On the contrary, I promised to keep an eye on the two of you tonight," he said as he pulled up a second chair beside Gibbs. "Tim and Ziva were very worried, Jethro." Gibbs turned to look at him. "They didn't stop for anything, even once, until they found you both. You should be proud of them."

"I am, Duck," he nodded before turning back to Tony.

"Of course, they did have help from Abigail in tracking your location. Not to mention the Director, and Fornell."

"Fornell?" Gibbs looked at him in question.

"The man who abducted you was on their watch list. Fornell went with Vance to investigate into the Griswald murder. Then he had two teams set up to assist in apprehending your captors."

"They take them all alive?" he asked.

"Griswald went down fighting," he told him. "Even when the rest of them surrendered."

"He was dying," Gibbs told him before looking back to his agent. "That's what he told me, anyway."

"Well...if that's true, I'll know tomorrow after I perform the autopsy." Ducky watched Gibbs as he looked over Tony. Worry was clearly written on his friend's face. He could only imagine the ordeal he'd witnessed; the helplessness he must have felt.

"Think he's gonna be okay?" Gibbs barely whispered. Ducky wasn't even sure if he'd meant to say it out loud.

"I take it you mean psychologically," the M.E said. Gibbs' eyes looked down for a moment before fixing back on Tony. "He's a strong lad, Jethro. He's come through some heavy things in his day, and never seemed one to be affected by it for long."

"I know what those drugs can do to people. But..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "I'd never seen him so terrified before, Duck."

"And that must've terrified _you_," he replied.

"That was Griswald's intention. He wanted to make me suffer by makin' DiNozzo suffer." His head dropped a bit as his eyes closed. "It's not fair," he shook his head.

Ducky put a hand on his shoulder, "It never is..."

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McGee sat in front of his computer in his apartment. He was looking through the in-depth autopsy reports of Griswald's murder victims. Though he'd already seen them, it seemed he was looking at them in a different light; knowing Tony had gone through these same things and would be the sole survivor.

After a while, he had to close them. He'd had one too many shivers run down his spine and if he'd continued reading them, his chances of sleeping at all would be much lower than they already were. He stretched as he stood, then headed to grab a beer from the fridge. He'd called Abby earlier to let her know that Tony was doing okay, but Gibbs had ordered them all to go home. And that meant that Abby would have to hold off on visiting, which he knew would be hard for her, but he explained why. Reluctantly, she'd promised not to go. Tim was grateful, mostly because he really didn't feel like dealing with that tonight. Not after the day they'd all had. He was barely holding _himself_ together.

McGee realized he'd somehow ended up standing in front of his typewriter, and he looked at it for a moment before decidedly sitting. He set his beer down and loaded a fresh piece of paper into the device and sat back a bit. He became lost in thought. Before he knew it, almost an hour had passed by without him even realizing... and he hadn't even touched the keys.

Pushing away from the chair, he headed toward his bed and laid down, staring blankly up at the ceiling. If he was going to space out, he might as well be comfortable while doing so. It wasn't long after, he succumbed to sleep...something he hadn't even realized his own body and mind had been so desperately craving after that day...

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Ziva was a bit confused when she heard a knock at her door. She'd not been able to drift off to sleep as she'd been ordered. She'd been lying in bed, awake; restless as she thought about what they'd found... But who was at her door...she didn't know.

She slipped from the covers and threw on her robe as she made her way to the door, peeking through the peephole to see Abby pacing in front of it. Ziva opened the door, "What are you doing here, Abby?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"I had to talk to someone, Ziva," she said as she entered the apartment and Ziva closed the door behind them. "Ducky and Gibbs are at the hospital and I was ordered not to go. McGee...well, he seemed kinda upset on the phone, so I didn't think it was such a good idea to ask him..."

"Ask him what?" she raised her brow.

Abby faced her and cocked her head. "What do you think?" she furrowed her brow. "I wanna know if Tony's okay..."

"Tony will be fine, Abby," she assured her.

"I know they said he'd be okay. But no one told me anything _but_ that. I saw the Griswald murder file, Ziva. I know what they do to their victims. But what I don't know, is what the hell they did to Tony, because no one thinks I can handle hearing it, apparently!"

"Abby," Ziva stopped her fidgeting by putting her hands on the goth's shoulders. "According to what I overheard Gibbs tell Ducky, everything in those files happened to Tony. With, of course, the exception that he did not die."

Slowly, Abby nodded, acknowledging the explanation. Her eyes focused a bit elsewhere, but other than that, she seemed to be taking the news rather well. In fact, it unnerved Ziva in a way. "I knew you'd give it to me straight," she said. "Thank you for trusting me not to freak out." Ziva gave her a questioning look. "I prepared myself," she explained. "I knew the worst that could happen...and if he's alive, then that's...better at least, right? I mean...of course it is. Of course it's better." Ziva could tell that she was fighting very hard to keep control over her emotion, and it made her think back to all the times that Abby seemed to know exactly how Ziva was feeling deep inside, even though it was almost always buried beneath a calm exterior. So she did what Abby always did; she hugged her. And she felt Abby's resolve melt away immediately. "When you saw him, did he...did he look okay?" she asked; worry clear in her voice.

"No," the Israeli wouldn't lie to her. Not with this.

"No? But..." she pulled away to look at her face; eyes glassy and mirroring each other. "They said he was going to be fine..."

Ziva nodded, "He will be," she tried to give her a small smile, at least. "He will just need some time, I am certain. It was...difficult to seem him that way, but he is very strong, Abby. He needs us to see him strong."

Abby nodded slightly, acknowledging what she'd been told. "Is Gibbs okay?"

"He is unharmed," she told her.

"Yeah, McGee said that. But...did he seem _okay_? Like 'Gibbs-okay'...which is completely different than normal 'okay', because it's harder to tell if you don't really know what to look for-"

"I think he worried," she stopped her rambling. "Like the rest of us...but probably in a much different way."

"Well, yeah. He's probably feeling guilty and pissed off and all kinds of helpless. That's actually a lot of why I'm upset they won't let me go see them. I'm worried about him..."

"Gibbs will be okay. Once Tony has the opportunity to turn the blame around onto himself, as usual," she smirked in attempt to humor her friend into feeling a little better, and it seemed to have worked a little as she watched to corner of Abby's mouth turn up. "I am going to get something to drink. Would you like to stay a while? I can make something..."

"Do you have hot chocolate?" Abby asked with a hopeful look on her face. "It makes me feel better sometimes. It's like comfort food...except...well...it's a comfort beverage. And it's legal for me to drive home afterward, and all..."

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**tbc...**

**AN: been busy...but trying to make time to write. Back to Tony-stuff next chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

_Tony found his weapon and quickly aimed around the empty room he'd been electrocuted in. To his surprise, he found no one hurrying in to counteract his resistance. So he pushed up from the table and hurried down the hall toward their cell, in search for his boss. _

_ Flinging the door open, he pointed his weapon around the empty room, slightly confused that no one was there. But then he saw the box...the lid was closed and latched. "No..." he dropped his gun to the floor and scrambled to his knees in front of the box, quickly opening the lid after removing the latches. _

_ Tony's heart caught in his throat... Gibbs' body was paled and cold...long dead. "No...nonono..." Tony reached down to pull his boss from the box. But the older man's body was stiff in that position, and the helplessness overwhelmed Tony. "Boss, I...I'm sorry...oh god..." he cried as he held the man in his arms..._

_ "Tony..." he heard a voice call to him._

"Tony, wake up," it was Gibbs' voice, and it made him open his eyes.

He blinked to clear his focus as he saw him standing over him, "Boss?" he squeaked, relieved that it had only been a dream.

"Yeah, it's me," he told him. "You're safe now, Tony."

"Where...where am I?" he looked around the room, then down at himself. "Hospital?"

Gibbs nodded and narrowed his eyes at the agent, "You remember what happened?" he asked. Tony's eyes darted wildly about for a few moments. "It's okay if you don't right now."

"I remember," Tony told him, meeting his eyes again. Gibbs watched his senior agent's face as it displayed mixed emotions; relief, confusion... embarrassment? "I remember them takin' me from my place," he said as his eyes focused somewhere beside Gibbs. "And I remember..." he swallowed and closed his eyes for just a moment, "Everything they did. But I don't remember getting out of there," he focused on Gibbs again. "I'm sorry, Boss," there came the embarrassed look again. "For freakin' out on you like I did."

Gibbs shook his head, never leaving eye-contact with Tony, "You've got nothin' to be sorry for, Tony."

"My inability to control myself made Griswald's plan successful," he clenched his jaw.

"You realize how much PCP was in your system, DiNozzo?" he asked with squinted eyes. "I'd say you did a pretty damn good job controlling what you could." They were both silent for a moment. "Besides," Gibbs looked down, "I'm the one who should be apologizing to _you_."

"What are you talkin' about?" Tony furrowed his brow in disbelief.

"I put the wrong man away," he met his eyes again.

"That's funny, 'cause last I recall, we _both_ pinned the wrong Griswald."

"Yeah, well...I came out of there without a scratch. You're the one who got hurt, in all this."

Tony pursed his lips for a moment, searching his boss's eyes. "You're the reason I came out of it alive, Boss." Gibbs flinched for just a moment at that thought. "I've seen people tear themselves apart on that drug; ram themselves into walls and split their own heads open. Anyone else might've...backed away into a corner and let me self-destruct, but you..." he took a couple of breaths through his nose, "You made sure I didn't." Gibbs could tell that his agent was starting to tire again, quickly, as his eyes became hooded.

"You know I'm not the only one who would've done that," he told him. "McGee and Ziva would've had your six, too, if they'd had the chance. In fact, they're the ones who tracked us down and got us outta there." Tony nodded, sleepily, in acknowledgment. "We'll talk more later," Gibbs patted his arm. "You get some sleep. I'll be here."

Tony relaxed against the pillows and let his eyes close, only to open them again as Gibbs sat in the chair beside the bed. "Boss?" Gibbs met his eyes again. "Thanks," he told him, then let his eyes slip closed again, giving in to the fatigue...

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"Agent McGee!" Tim turned toward the voice of Tobias Fornell as he approached him in the NCIS garage. "Glad I caught you so I didn't have to go up. I've got a copy of the video images pulled from Griswald's laptop. Found it when we took him down. Thought you might need it for Gibbs and DiNozzo once they testify. You know...evidence and all," he handed him a flash drive.

"Video of what?" he was almost afraid to ask.

"Apparently, Griswald had everything recorded. There were webcams all over the building my agents found when they were combing the place."

Tim looked at the tiny device as he flipped it over in his hand. "We have everyone in custody," he looked back up at Fornell. "So...why do you want me to have this? I can get all this information from Gibbs."

"I want you to have it so they don't have to tell you," he explained. "After watching that, myself, I think it'd be best if...well, if they didn't have to be the ones writing the report. Bad enough they had to live that _once_."

McGee furrowed his brow, then nodded in understanding and thanks. Fornell sent him a quick smile before turning to get back into his car. Then Tim got into the elevator and made his way to Abby's lab. He was more than grateful that she hadn't gotten in yet as he made his way into her office to take advantage of the privacy of her computer space.

He clicked the monitor on and stuck the flash drive into the usb port, opening the files it contained. He paused for a moment, scratching the side of his head as he pondered the thought of even watching this in the first place. But Fornell was right; Gibbs and Tony probably wouldn't want to talk about what'd happened in there. Between the both of them, they pretty much kept everything locked away from everyone...even if it hurt.

But McGee needed to know...needed to understand. And if by watching this footage, he could help to ease the burden somehow, then that's what he would do. He opened the first video and clicked for it to play. It started out dark, lit up by night-vision. And when the lights came on, he realized it was Tony's apartment. It didn't take long to realize that this was video of his kidnapping. But he hadn't expected to see the appearance of that box so soon...

The next video was split-screen: one of the cell as Gibbs came to open the box and help Tony out. The other side showed the other room where the familiar metal bed and machine lay. It didn't take long until Tony was being dragged from the cell and strapped down on the metal bed. Gibbs was yelling, banging against the door of the cell as one of the masked men began preparing for the inevitable torture...McGee thought he was prepared for this part; thought he knew what was going to happen. And in a way, he did know. But somehow it was a hell of a lot more difficult to see...

Imagining it was somehow less horrid than seeing and hearing it first-hand. Tim felt his stomach twist as he watched the masked man drill into Tony's chest... Tony's scream went through him like a knife. He had to look away- and he ended up watching Gibbs as he yelled louder and banged harder on the door. McGee muted the video, allowing it to play without the audio at least until this part was through. But the damage was already done... and he reached for the small trash bin beside Abby's desk and heaved into it.

Cursing under his breath, he forced himself to calm down, and opened the next video file, taking the volume off mute. The footage was just one window now; the room where Tony had been drilled into, but now the bed was upright. Gibbs was tied to a chair a ways in front of it. Wires were clamped to the little posts in Tony's chest and abdomen, and Tim watched in horror as he was repeatedly shocked; listening carefully to the questions being given to Gibbs, and his replies...each time hoping that the answer would be quick to end Tony's pain.

When Tony's body went completely limp, the video ended. Tim knew, however, what had happened after that. He'd heard Gibbs explain it to Ducky the night before. He opened the next file, which began with a full shot of the cell as Gibbs went in to get Tony from the box. What started out relatively calm, soon escalated in the hallucination that had Tony mutilating his own body in attempt to remove invisible creatures from his skin. McGee found himself wrapping his own arms around his middle, scratching at his own arms as he empathized with his friend. He was grateful when Gibbs managed to calm him down. The video ended soon after, and he noted the time-stamp before opening the next one.

Six hours had passed in between the videos, and he realized exactly what point that had been in the day. Tony had been asleep on the floor at that point, but all hell broke loose when the room flooded with the masked men. Gibbs had tried to fend them away from Tony, but there were too many of them. McGee understood the look of fear on Gibbs' face as the men lifted Tony's terrified form toward the box. Neither of them had ever seen him so scared before, even if it was because of the drugs...it was still hard to swallow.

One video remained. As he opened it, he tried hard to hold on to the control he'd forced himself to keep...well, since losing his breakfast after the drilling... The footage was, once again, of Gibbs opening the box. His heart sank, probably along with Gibbs', at the lack of reaction from Tony as he was pulled from the box. Tim intently listened to Gibbs' voice as he tried to comfort the senior agent. The sound of Tony's small sob, and watching his hand come up to grip Gibbs' shirt, caused McGee's eyes to sting with tears.

The video ended and Tim heard the office door hiss open, causing him to look over. "McGee, what're you doing in my..." Abby's look of confusion immediately changed into concern. "What's wrong, Timmy?" she asked as she quickly went to his side and knelt beside the chair.

McGee quickly swiped away the tear that he hadn't realized escaped down his cheek, then yanked the flash drive from her computer and stood. "I've gotta go start the report, Abby," he said as he stood.

She stood as well, "You're shaking," she said as she reached over and hugged him tightly. "What's wrong? What were you doing just now?"

He closed his eyes for a moment as he returned the hug. "I'm okay...really," he pulled gently away. "I need to go," he walked past her and out of the lab.

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**tbc...**

**A/N: Know this is shorter than normal, but, like the last few days, I've been a bit busy. Longer chapter coming tomorrow hopefully:)**


	8. Chapter 8

Tony finished getting dressed by pulling on his shoes as he sat on the end of the hospital bed. Gibbs was going over the discharge paperwork in the hall with the doctor. Tony felt like crap. To be more specific, he felt like he had the worst hangover ever. The doctor had given him some anti-nausea meds after having vomited up probably every last ounce of stomach acid he'd had in him. The pain meds took the edge off the migraine he'd gotten up with, and the soreness in, what felt like, every other muscle in his body. But all in all, other than feeling like he was fighting off a flu, he was ready to get out of the hospital.

"You set, DiNozzo?" his head turned toward Gibbs' voice, seeing him standing in the doorway. It didn't take Gibbs long to read the nervousness on his senior agent's face. His eyes narrowed as he came further into the room toward him. "Feelin' okay?"

Tony smirked, "Yeah, Boss, I'm good."

Gibbs cocked his head, unsatisfied with the reply. "Somethin' botherin' you?"

Tony looked down at his lap, shaking his head, "Just not sure I wanna go back to my apartment..." his reply was calm and vague, but Gibbs understood the meaning behind it.

"Wasn't plannin' on taking you back to your place," he told him and Tony looked back up at him, questioningly. "No way I'm stayin' on your couch, Tony. You're comin' to my place."

Tony let out a small laugh, "Come on, Boss. I don't need a sitter. I'm fine."

"Don't argue with me. You heard the doc. You wanna stay here?" Tony's smile faded. "That's what I thought," he picked up Tony's bag from the chair. "Come on. Let's go home."

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"Ziva!" Abby exclaimed as she unpacked the large grocery bag filled with prepared home-cooked meals. "Where did you find the time to make all this?"

"Gibbs would not allow any of us to visit Tony," she explained.

"Yeah, I know," Abby furrowed a brow. "But that's because he needed his rest...so he could get out of there tonight."

"Yes, well...McGee spoke with Vance and got approval to write the report himself, so that Gibbs and Tony could simply review and sign, instead of reliving the events again by recalling and documenting it themselves."

"How would he be able to do that?" Abby asked as she stacked the containers into Gibbs' fridge.

"Agent Fornell supplied him with documented evidence recovered from Griswald's computer," she explained as she poured water into the coffee maker.

"You mean, like video documentation?" Abby asked, and Ziva looked over at her for a brief moment.

"I do not know," she said as she started the coffee brewing. "Director Vance gave him orders not to show it to anyone else. But I assume that it is video. How else would he be able to fill out the report?"

Abby shut the fridge and approached Ziva, "He was in my office this morning, using my computer," she told her. Ziva focused on her friend at that. "Ziva, he was watching the video, wasn't he? He was shaking before he left my lab..."

Ziva's eyes darted around on the counter for a moment. "If that was his reaction, then that was probably what he was doing in your office, yes."

"Hey, Abs," McGee said as he entered the kitchen.

She spun around to face him, "How long have you been here, Timmy?"

"Not long, really. I went to Tony's to pick up a few things for him. Clothes and his portable DVD player and some movies...I was just upstairs setting it up for him."

"Are you staying for dinner, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"I don't wanna impose," he said nervously. "Just wanted to see him...ya know...make sure he has everything he needs." McGee looked away as he swallowed and turned to head into the living room.

"Abby," Ziva put a hand on her arm, "The oven is done preheating. Can you put the rigatoni in?" Hesitantly, Abby looked over at the dish on the counter and nodded as Ziva headed after Tim.

McGee was standing, facing the couch and looking out the front window, seemingly waiting for Gibbs to arrive with Tony. She walked to stand beside him. "It's not that I don't enjoy your cooking, Ziva," he said without breaking his view out the window. "Just not hungry, is all."

"Because of what you saw?" she asked, already knowing the answer. He glanced at her briefly with a furrowed brow, before setting an uneasy gaze back out the window. "I know from personal experience, knowing about something is completely different than witnessing it. You should have brought it to me. You should not have done that alone."

"_They_ did it alone," he looked at her, clearly frustrated.

"But they do not have to do _this_ alone," she told him.

He searched her eyes for a moment. "What am I supposed to do?" he asked in barely a whisper. "How do I help him after all of that?"

"We do what you all did for me, after you brought me back from Somalia. We treat him the same as we always have, and not with the assumption that he has been somehow...broken. We are a family, McGee," she put a hand on his arm as she looked into his eyes. "We will be there for each other no matter what," her gaze dropped to his chest. "You all taught me that. And even though, at the time, I thought that I could deal with things alone, I needed my family," she met his eyes again. "And that is what Tony and Gibbs need now, just the same."

McGee looked at her for a long moment, absorbing what she'd told him. Then he nodded before turning his focus back out the window. "Guess I'm staying for dinner then."

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Gibbs turned off the car after pulling up in front of his house, and he looked over at his passenger who was staring ahead, surveying the house in front of them. "Lights are on, Boss," he observed.

"Ziva made us dinner," he told Tony, and the agent looked at him. "Abby and McGee are here, too. They wanna see you; see for themselves that you're okay." He could sense the hesitancy in Tony's face. "That okay with you?" he asked.

Tony looked back at the house for a moment before looking down at his lap. "They know everything that happened?" he asked quietly.

"Fornell's team processed the scene," he told him. "And I haven't given a report yet. So whatever they may know would be surmised from Griswald's previous charges. Unless...they heard me give Ducky the run-down." Tony closed his eyes for a moment, then began to chew on his lower lip. Gibbs narrowed his eyes as he appraised him. "If you don't wanna do this tonight, I'll tell 'em to go home. But they've been worried about you. You're gonna have to see them sooner or later."

"Yeah, Boss...I know."

"What're you so afraid of?" he asked in a quiet voice, and Tony looked at him.

"I'm not afraid," he replied flatly. "I'm just...tired." His eyes fell back to his lap. "And I'm not really hungry at all."

"Nauseous?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Well that's good, 'cause I'm sure the house is gonna smell like alfredo."

Tony's eyes shot to his, "Ziva made alfredo?"

Gibbs smirked, "You just grow an appetite?"

Tony swallowed, followed by squinting, "Not really...but if she could set some aside for me, maybe I'll be hungry later."

He nodded, "I'm sure she can handle that. So...you wanna come in? Or are you sleepin' in the car tonight?"

Tony looked back at the house and took a few deep breaths, then pushed open his door. Gibbs got out and walked around the car as Tony was shutting his own door. They both began the walk up toward the house, but Tony slowed to a stop half-way there. Gibbs turned to him with a questioning look. "What if I...freak out or somethin', Boss? Right in front of them..." he looked worriedly at him.

"That what you're so afraid of?" Gibbs asked. Tony looked down, ashamedly, sticking his hands into his pockets. Gibbs moved in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder, "You're not gonna freak out, Tony. The drugs are outta your system, or you wouldn't have been discharged. And if somethin' _did_ happen, you really think they're gonna do anything but support you?"

"If something did happen..." he met his eyes again, "Boss, I don't wanna lose my job..." he barely whispered.

Gibbs realized just how insecure the man felt in that moment. Tony was afraid of looking weak in front of the most important people in his life right now. Gibbs stepped closer to him, "You're not gonna lose your job, Tony. It's no one's call but my own, either way. No one's questioning your ability to come back to work. That's not what this is about. You know that, right?"

"Guess so," came his quick reply.

"Don't guess, DiNozzo. _Know_. They're not here to assess you. They're here because they care about you. If you're tired, you can just say hello to them and go upstairs to bed if you want. No one's gonna think less of ya for it."

Tony looked at him for a moment, watching him as he turned back toward the house, then followed him up to the porch and in through the front door. He watched as Abby came excitedly up to Gibbs, first; giving him a big hug before attacking Tony with one.

"Easy, Abs," Gibbs told her.

"Oh, right! Sorry, Tony... I'm just so glad to see you!"

"It's okay, Abby," Tony told her with a smirk. "Good to see you, too." She gave him a quick smile before dragging Gibbs toward the kitchen with her.

"You look much better," Ziva said as she and Tim approached him. She gave him a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad," he replied with a small smile. "But I'm pretty wiped out... Think it's the meds."

"I uh...picked up some of your things and put them in the guest room upstairs," McGee told him.

"Thanks, McGee," he smiled.

"Are you hungry?" Ziva asked.

"Actually...it smells great, Ziva. Thanks for going through all the trouble, but I think I'm gonna pass for now. Save me some?" She gave him an understanding smile and squeezed his arm lightly before heading to the kitchen.

"You really do look a lot better, Tony," McGee said, and Tony met his eyes again.

"Somethin' tells me, if I took my shirt off, you wouldn't say that." The look that painted Tim's face now was unreadable; his eyes darted around in discomfort. "Hey, Probie, I'm just messin' with ya," he smirked. Tim seemed to relax slightly as he met his eyes again. "I'm gonna head upstairs and take a shower. Then probably hit the hay. I'll see you Monday, okay?"

"Sure," he said, "G'night, Tony." He watched as the senior agent climbed the stairs and disappeared into the guest room. McGee walked into the kitchen to see Abby with a small plate of the pasta, and the rest of them putting things away. "I...I think I'm just gonna head home," he told them before turning and heading toward the door.

With a quick, shared glanced with Abby, Gibbs went out after him, catching him on the porch. "Everything okay, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah, Boss," he replied as he turned to face him. They were both silent for a long moment, but McGee saw the look on Gibbs' face that told him he wasn't going to let that be the final answer. Tim took a breath, "Fornell gave me a flash drive containing files his team found on Griswald's computer. I watched the footage...just me. I mean...the files are video footage. Everything from Tony's kidnapping, to just minutes before we found you." He tried to read Gibbs' reaction, but it was completely unclear. "Anyway, I wrote out the report...so you wouldn't have to. But I'm gonna need both of you to sign it at some point."

"Where's the flash thing?" he asked calmly.

"It's with my stuff in the car," he replied. "I talked to Vance, and we both decided it'd be best not to expose the fact that there's footage at all. It'll just be filed away with the evidence, but no one else needs to see it."

Gibbs nodded and looked down at the porch for a moment, then looked up at him again. "You shouldn't have had to see that, Tim. But thank you...that's a big help; writin' up the report. You didn't have to do that."

"'Course, Boss. Anything that'll make it easier at all...I'm just..." his eyes darted around for a moment, "I'm sorry...about what happened." Gibbs narrowed his eyes as he watched the discomfort his agent seemed to be feeling; replaying what he'd seen in his head now. "Is Tony...gonna be okay now?" he looked at his eyes again.

Gibbs thought back to the previous night when McGee had asked that question; if Tony was okay. And he'd answered negatively in that moment. But now, he put a hand on Tim's shoulder, "He's gonna be fine. Promise you that. But he's gonna need you to have faith in his ability to do his job, 'cause he's got some fear about it right now. He needs you to have faith in him..."

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Tony walked into the bathroom, clean change of clothes in-hand, and set them on the counter as he took off his tee-shirt and shut the door. For the first time since the incident, he saw his reflection, and it made him freeze. He hadn't been aware of the dark, ugly scratches on his face. He'd seen his chest and stomach when the nurses changed his bandages. But this...this was new.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd recalled that he'd done it. But seeing it now was somehow...surreal. Tony pulled the bandage from his chest, slowly, revealing the rest of the monstrosities as he viewed them in the mirror. After letting out a shaky breath, he forced himself to turn away from it and start the shower.

The water felt anything but soothing against the injuries, and he had to turn his back toward the spray for the duration of the shower. The thought ran through his head of what his teammates must have thought when they saw him as he walked in the door...

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"Thanks, again, for everything, Ziver," Gibbs told her as she and Abby made their way out the front door. She gave him a small smile before he closed the door behind them and headed up the stairs. They girls had stayed a long while in hopes that Tony would change his mind and come down. They'd all finished dinner, cleaned up and talked over coffee until they were too tired to continue.

Gibbs glanced into the open door to the guest room, finding Tony fast asleep, curled up in the bed; the lamp still on beside it. He thought for a moment about going in to turn it off, but voted against it, thinking that it was quite possible that Tony had left it on intentionally. So he left his agent and headed to his own room, changing into an old tee-shirt and pair of sweatpants before climbing into his own bed. At first, he thought it might take a while to fall asleep. But when his head hit the pillow, the exhaustion from the past couple of days hit him hard, and he was asleep within minutes...

*~.~*

He wasn't sure why he'd woken up, but Gibbs felt most certainly pulled from his sleep suddenly. The darkness of the room indicated that it was still night. The clock confirmed he'd only been asleep for a few hours. But there didn't seem to be a particular reason for why he'd so abruptly been shaken from his slumber.

That was, until he heard something...a small sound from somewhere outside his bedroom door. He strained to hear it further, then realized exactly what it was... Pushing himself out of bed, he made his way toward the guestroom to find it had gone dark. He flipped on the overhead light to see Tony curled up, tangled in the covers, still asleep, but softly whimpering where he lay.

Gibbs approached the bed, quietly, examining the pained expression on his friend's face. He sat on the edge of the bed next to him and reached a hand to lay on his arm, "Tony," he said softly. All at once, Gibbs realized the position Tony was in...his hands crossed in front of his chest and his body curled tightly into itself. Immediately, he began to untangle the covers from his agent before attempting to wake him again. "Tony," he called again, softly, placing a hand on the side of the agent's face this time.

Instead of waking, Tony seemed to become calm. His body relaxed along with his expression, and his breathing seemed to regulate and indicate a more peaceful sleep. After a few minutes, Gibbs decided that Tony would be alright, granted the light stay on and the covers remain loose. He slowly stood from the bed and quietly made his way to the door, turning once more to confirm his friend's continued state of calm, before heading back to his own room...

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**tbc...**


	9. Chapter 9

Gibbs had been up for a few hours now; made coffee and had strolled into the basement to organize some of his workbench that had become unbearably cluttered for no apparent reason. Perhaps it was because he wasn't working on anything in particular; just a project here and there. Fixing things around the house that didn't necessarily need that much work...simply something to do.

It seemed he was almost finished when he heard footsteps on the stairs and looked over to see Tony as he descended with a cup of coffee in his hands. "I was wonderin' when you'd get up," he told the agent as he came into view.

"It's Saturday, Boss," he replied with a smirk. "I've trained myself well. I'm guessing you've been up for hours."

"Guessed right," he smirked as he placed a jar up onto the shelf.

"Kinda strange," Tony said as he looked around the expanse of the basement.

"What's that?"

"Nothin' down here...no boat, I mean. Kinda seems like somethin's missing."

Gibbs smirked at that, "You can only build so many boats before it makes you seem a little crazy."

"Nobody thinks you're crazy, Boss!" he grinned.

Gibbs cocked his head, "Maybe 'crazy' isn't the right word. 'Sad', maybe." He turned away from the empty space and busied himself with the table-top again.

Tony felt possibly more offended by the statement than even Gibbs should've been. "Having a hobby isn't sad," he told him. "The ability to successfully have _time_ for a hobby with our line of work is flat-out amazing, at the least." Gibbs looked at him with a hint of amusement. "At least _your_ hobby is constructive. I mean, what use can my extensive collection of movie trivia serve, right?"

"If I remember correctly, some of your 'useless' movie knowledge has helped devise some clever strategies in tight spots. Hell...it helped get me out of that hostage situation at the school. Sometimes you're just meant to like certain things like that; sometimes it's just fate."

"Well, maybe you're meant to keep buildin' boats, Boss."

"Nah," he shook his head as he pushed up from where he sat, and wandered over to another cluttered area to begin working. "It was never really meant to go past the first boat." There was a notable amount of silence as he shifted things around on the shelf.

"So...what made you keep building them?" Tony asked.

Gibbs glanced at him briefly before continuing his work, and he took a breath before replying, "I started building the first one with Kelly," he told him. "Guess once that one was finished, I felt like I...needed to keep doing it. Felt like it'd somehow keep that memory alive. It kinda became therapeutic in a way, but it lost its meaning somewhere along the line... So I decided the last one I made was gonna be the last one."

Tony wasn't sure how to respond at first. "Sorry, Boss...didn't mean to bring up sad memories," he said quietly.

"Doesn't count if I was already thinkin' 'em," he replied. "And it's okay. There's happy ones in there, too." He decidedly dropped what he was doing and turned to face his senior agent. "You hungry?"

"Not really," he replied, narrowing his eyes with the premonition of his boss's retort.

"Gotta eat," he headed toward the stairs, glancing briefly at Tony before ascending. Tony reluctantly followed behind him up to the kitchen. "Want some eggs or somethin'?" he pressed.

"Boss, if I even _smell_ an egg cooking, I'm gonna hurl...seriously."

"You haven't eaten anything substantial in over two days, Tony," he reminded him. "You wanna end up back in the hospital with malnutrition?"

Tony took a breath, slumping his shoulders a bit in defeat, "Maybe I'll try some toast, I guess."

"That'll do, for now," Gibbs moved to grab the bread from the counter. "You feelin' alright?" he asked in light of the look of the discomfort that seemed more visibly apparent now.

"Just a headache," he replied. "And I'm a little queasy, obviously."

"Didn't you take your meds?" he asked as he went to retrieve the butter from the fridge.

"Yeah...took 'em while I poured myself coffee," Tony slipped into a chair at the table. "Guess they'll start working at some point, right?"

"You're supposed to take them with food, DiNozzo. Says so on the bottle."

"Well it's kinda ridiculous to prescribe an anti-nausea medication that insists that I eat something...when _clearly_ I'll throw the damn thing up with whatever I put in my stomach!" he hadn't meant to sound so thoroughly agitated, but as Gibbs turned to face him with a look of question and concern, he felt the agitation building into something more substantial. He pushed away from the table and stood, "I'm gonna go get some air," he said as he headed for the back patio.

Gibbs watched Tony as he disappeared from the kitchen, then turned around to resume making the agent's breakfast. He hadn't meant to upset or push him, but Tony knew the rules about leaving the hospital and Gibbs wasn't about to let him get sick and end up right back there.

He finished buttering the two pieces of toast and plopped them onto a plate before bringing it out to the patio. Tony was standing facing the lawn, leaning on his elbows against the deck railing. Gibbs set the plate down next to him, silently, and turned to take a seat. After a moment, Tony picked up the plate and plopped himself down on another chair, setting the plate in his lap.

He picked one of the pieces up, examining it for a moment before focusing on his boss's face. "Sorry...for getting aggravated, Boss..." he told him before taking a bite of the toast.

"Didn't mean to aggravate ya," he replied, cocking his head.

"Not your fault," he said, decidedly swallowing before continuing. "I just feel...weird. Hungover, possibly, for lack of better explanation. I feel drained; physically and mentally...emotionally even. I'm not even aggravated, really. I'm just...nothing. Don't know how else to explain it."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes in concern as he watch Tony continue to eat. "You know, if you ever wanna talk, Tony...I'm here."

"Last thing I wanna do is think of that stuff again. Makes my stomach hurt."

"Yeah. Me too," Gibbs replied before fixing his gaze out onto the lawn. Tony appraised Gibbs' face, taking in the information he'd given in those simple words. It made him think back to the very thing he'd been hoping not to think about.

When Gibbs looked back over at Tony, the agent's eyes had closed; his thumb and forefinger pinched the bridge of his nose. Gibbs leaned forward in his seat, "You okay?"

Tony dropped his hand and opened his eyes. They were glassy and red before looking down and away from his boss. "I think I'm...gonna go back upstairs..." his voice cracked as he pushed up from the chair, sending his plate to the patio floor. "Shit!" he scrambled to pick up the mess.

Gibbs pushed out of his chair the moment he'd heard Tony's voice cracking, and now he was at a loss for what was happening as Tony crumbled in front of him; his hands moving to hide his face as he seemed to lose control completely. "Hey," Gibbs knelt beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders in effort to support him. "What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I dunno, Boss, I'm sorry..." the anguish in his voice caused Gibbs' heart to sink in his chest again, reminding him of the terrifying moments they'd spent in that cell.

"It's okay," he told him, pulling his agent into an embrace, the best he could in their position. "It's gonna be okay, Tony..." he petted his hair and felt Tony accept the comfort, moving his hands away from his face and clinging to Gibbs' by the front of his shirt.

"Why...why do I feel like this?" he cried against Gibbs' shoulder.

"I don't know," he told him as he held him close. "But we'll figure this out, okay?"

Tony suddenly regained as much of his composure as he could manage, and pulled from Gibbs, standing abruptly. Giving an apologetic look to his boss, he then turned to go back into the house and quickly disappeared up the stairs and into the guest room. As he shut the door, he turned and leaned back on it, sliding slowly to the floor as he cursed himself under his breath. Losing control like that in front of Gibbs was unacceptable. Surely he would lose his place on the team... and nothing was more important to him than his team; his family...

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Gibbs was sitting on the steps out front when Ducky finally arrived. "I came as quickly as I could, Jethro," the M.E told him as he approached.

"Thanks, Duck. I appreciate that."

"What seems to be the problem? Is it Anthony?"

"I think he's suffering from some depression caused by what happened. He broke down this morning. Hasn't come out of his room since."

"May I ask what brought this on? Were you discussing what'd happened?" he asked as Gibbs stood to follow him into the house.

"Not really. Just told him I was here if he wanted to talk. He said he didn't wanna think about it. Then he seemed to start...breakin' down. I dunno, Duck..."

"Perhaps he was having a flashback," he suggested. "And you say he went up to his room and hasn't come out? How long ago was that?"

"Right before I called you. Probably been an hour now."

"Perhaps I could try and have a word with him while I check his bandages."

"Duck," stood from the steps and followed the doctor toward the front door. "I don't think I'm helpin' him. Think I'm makin' it worse, unintentionally. I know he's gotta eat and take his meds, but he gets so frustrated when I mention it. It's like he's pissed at me..."

"Tony might be feeling angry or confused," Ducky said. "But if anything, I'm sure those feelings aren't aimed at you. You just happen to be the only one around him to witness his current state. Let me talk with him, Jethro. I'll try and get him to let me in."

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Ziva wasn't entirely sure why she'd decided to drive to McGee's place. But she'd somehow ended up there and walked up toward his door. In her head, she worked out some reasoning she could give the agent once he would open the door to her. She would ask him to go to lunch with her.

As she approached the door, however, she heard a crash and panicked. Drawing her weapon, she kicked open the door, "McGee!" she yelled as she entered, but she saw him standing there alone. His face was red with anger and tears brimmed his eyes. She noticed the typewriter in shambles on the floor in front of him and she holstered her weapon before approaching him. "McGee? What happened? Are you alright?"

Tim met her eyes and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and suddenly he felt ashamed and embarrassed in her presence. "I'm fine, Ziva," he told her before turning away and walking into his bedroom. For a moment, she was frozen where she stood; unsure of how to react to the situation. But her gaze fell to the broken machine in front of her and she crouched down to remove the paper that was still connected to it, and she pulled in free to read the writing...

_Tommy was shut up in the box once more, void of the hope of ever escaping. He'd given up. After everything he'd been through that day, he was disappearing inside himself, prepared for the end..._

The words made her heart burn in her chest. McGee had apparently been writing about their recent case, and it had struck him harder than either of them had thought. She stood, dropping the paper to the floor before going after her friend. She found him standing, facing the window. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. She went to stand beside him and his eyes shifted in realization that she was there.

"Why would you destroy your typewriter? You love writing..." she said.

"I was exploiting Tony's experience," he corrected. "And I was getting too far into his head to bear. I couldn't handle it anymore..." his voice cracked. "There was at least ten pages of it. Another five where I had us rescuing them before they did all that...and I just got to the point I couldn't do it anymore. I just can't..."

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" she turned to face him.

"What?" he faced her as well, confused by what she'd said.

"You watched the video alone, and now you are going so far as to dissect every part of what they went through...in essence, _feeling_ everything they went through, yourself."

"So what?" he defended. "Maybe I wanna understand what he went through! I highly doubt it's gonna hurt me nearly as bad as it did Tony."

"Really?" she furrowed a brow at him. "Do you really believe this is not affecting you at all? Because I believe your typewriter would say differently, if it could speak."

"Ziva..."

"McGee," she took his face in her hands and looked him in the eye. "If you think that causing yourself this pain is somehow going to assist you in being a better friend to them, you are wrong."

He searched her eyes for a moment. "I don't know what else to do," he told her in a quiet voice. "I know you told me I just need to be there for them, but I can't even figure out how to do that."

Ziva dropped her hands and put her arms around him instead, pulling him into an embrace. "It is not something you figure out. Just be yourself, McGee. You know more about what happened than any of the rest of us. Perhaps, when Tony is ready to talk about it, you will be of great comfort to him." Gently, she pulled away to look at him. "For now, however, please stop torturing yourself."

He was silent for a long moment as they stood there. Then his brow furrowed, "Why did you come over here?"

"Honestly," she sighed, "I do not remember." Her lips curled up into a grin, causing his to do the same.

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Gibbs stood from the couch as Ducky came back down from his talk with Tony. The doctor motioned for him to follow him into the kitchen and he complied. "Did he talk to you?" he inquired.

"A bit, Jethro, and he gave me permission to speak to you about it," Ducky said as he sat at the table.

"Why wouldn't he just speak to me himself?" he asked as he sat across from him.

"Because he feels ashamed," he explained. "Embarrassed about how he's feeling. He's afraid of causing you to be disappointed in him."  
"I thought the drugs were outta his system, Duck," Gibbs said in disbelief. "Or have I given him reason to believe I've ever been disappointed in him?"

"Now he hasn't said these things out loud. But it's clear to me, from what he's been saying, that this is what he feels. This team is his family and he's very much afraid of losing it because of what's happened to him. He believes that the way he feels right now, may never go away."

"I told him he didn't have to worry about that."

"I'm sure you did, Jethro. But it doesn't mean he's had his fears relieved. Anthony went through a great deal, as you well know. Not only was his body affected, but his mind and its chemical balance as well. It may take a while to fully recover. In the meantime, he'll need support and reassurance."

"That's what I was tryin' to do this mornin', Ducky. But he was offended by everything I did."

"Perhaps not in the same way as you might think," the doctor attempted to explain. "Tony did what he was supposed to, this morning, with the exception of eating. But he was aware that he needed to. His reasoning was sound, though. He might have suffered some stomach discomfort from not eating with the medication, but once the nausea medication took effect, he would've been more than happy to eat. The point is, if you have to nag him, he'll feel as though you don't trust him to take care of himself. He's aware that he has to be here for monitoring, but he needs to feel like he's not completely incompetent."

"Is that what he thinks I think of him?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "I'm just tryin' to make sure he gets better, Duck. What happened to him...I couldn't stop it. But I can do something _now_. I need him to know that...I wanna be here to help him, but if he's gonna feel hurt every time I try to reach out, then I'm not really sure what the hell to do..."

"Now, Jethro," Ducky stood and went to his friend's side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think you should stop what you've been doing. What I'm trying to do is tell you why he's reacting the way he is. Just keep in mind what I've said," he gave his shoulder a squeeze. "And be patient with him."

"Alright," Gibbs nodded after a moment. "Thanks, Duck."

"Now, I must get in to work," he said as he made his way out of the kitchen. "There's an autopsy report to be finished and signed. Oh," he turned back to face Gibbs, "That reminds me; I did a little searching into Griswald's claim of being ill. He was telling you the truth. There was a tumor in his brain, most likely causing his psychotic behavior. And judging by its size, it's been there for quite a while and only recently began metastasizing. He would've been dead within the next couple of months."

"So...everyone he killed..."

"May well have been due to that tumor, yes. But even if he'd been taken alive, it was inoperable. He would only have done a very small portion of the time he would've been punished with." Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment and followed Ducky to the front door. "I'll see you Monday, Jethro. Take care."

"You too, Duck. And thanks, again." Closing the door behind his friend, he turned toward the stairs, glancing up before climbing up toward the guest room. Hesitating only for a moment in thought, he knocked lightly.

"Come in," he heard Tony call from the other side, and he pushed the door open gently. "Hey, Boss," Tony said from his propped up position against the headboard. "Sorry about earlier..."

"No need to apologize," he replied as he approached, decidedly sitting beside the agent on the bed, leaning back on the headboard as well. "I probably should've mentioned that I get a bit overprotective when it comes to people I care about." Tony's eyes shot over to his boss at the comment; his brow furrowing. "I don't want ya to think I don't have every bit of faith in your ability to take care of yourself. I just wanna be sure I'm doin' everything I can to make sure you get better. We need you."

Tony sighed as he folded his arms over his stomach. "You don't have to do this."

"Do what?" Gibbs narrowed his eyes in the direction of his senior agent. Tony gave him a look. "Everything I'm sayin' is the truth, DiNozzo. Whether or not you wanna believe that right now is up to you. But I'm not blowin' smoke up your ass. You know I wouldn't do that."

Tony searched his eyes for a few long moments. Gibbs wasn't sure, exactly, what he was seeing in his agent's face, but it wasn't completely unfamiliar. Mixed emotion; uncertainty and confusion, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"The way you're feelin' is normal, Tony," Gibbs told him. "It'll get better with time. But I don't want you runnin' off every time you feel somethin', just because you think I can't handle it."

"You sayin' you can handle me cryin' like a little girl at the drop of a hat, Boss?" Tony gave his best fake grin possible.

Gibbs returned the smirk, "Yeah, I think I can handle it, DiNozzo. As long as you can take my help for what it is." Tony blinked a few times as he processed that, then gave a small smile to his boss...

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**tbc...**


	10. Chapter 10

"Yeah, okay. I'm on my way," Gibbs said into his phone as he jogged up the stairs toward the guest room. The door was wide open and Tony was watching something on his DVD player before glancing over at his boss. "Got a case, so I've gotta run out," he told him. "Don't know when I'll be back. You okay by yourself for a while?"

"Yeah, Boss. I'll be fine."

"Call if you need anything. I mean that, Tony," he narrowed his eyes, concerned about having to leave at all.

"Will do," Tony replied. "Be careful out there."

Gibbs smirked at the noted concern in his agent's face. "Don't worry about _me_," he replied. Then as he turned, "I'm lockin' the door on my way out. Oh," he poked his head back in the door, "There's plenty of food in the fridge. Try an' eat somethin' at some point?"

"I'll do that now, Boss," Tony said as he set his player on the bed and pushed up from the mattress. The two of them made their way downstairs; Gibbs heading toward the front door and Tony headed toward the kitchen. "See ya later, Boss!" he yelled as the front door closed behind Gibbs.

He went to the fridge and shifted through several containers until finding one that had some sandwiches and pulled that one out and placed it on the counter. He could hear Gibbs' car start and listened as it pulled away and drove into the distance. Suddenly, and without known reason, Tony felt overwhelmed. With what, he couldn't pinpoint; but his stomach began to turn and his breathing became short and labored.

He leaned with his hands on the edge of the counter, closing his eyes as he tried to regain composure and tried to understand what, exactly, was happening. Consciously, he began to control his breathing, slowing it back down to normal before opening his eyes again. Remembering his word, he picked up the container of sandwiches and sat down at the table.

But he still felt it, somewhere in the back of his mind, the feeling that something was wrong. He tried to force himself to push it away; ignore it, so that he could go on with his day...

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"Estimated time of death is between 36 and 48 hours," Doctor Mallard told Gibbs as they stood over the deceased body of female Petty Officer Terri Reginald. "I assume, before getting her back to my morgue for a more thorough examination, that she was killed by the obvious gunshot wound to the head at point-blank range."

"No sign of struggle," McGee added as he took photographs. "Which means she probably knew the killer."

"Maybe," Gibbs said as Ziva came back into the house from talking to the woman who'd discovered the body.

"Ms. Taylor claims that Petty Officer Reginald came home two days ago with her boyfriend, Raymond Adler," Ziva reported. "He did not stay long according to Taylor. He left in a red 89 Porshe, heading west. Taylor gave me a description, so when we get back, perhaps we can do a search."

"I haven't noticed any pictures around the house," McGee said as he did another quick search. "Other than of the Petty Officer, of course. So they must not have been that close. Was Taylor certain they were together?"

"She said they regularly went out dressed up for late-night activities," Ziva told him. "Specifically ballroom dancing classes, apparently." Gibbs shot her a look. "Before you ask, yes, I did ask whether or not she was aware of where they were attending classes. But she was not sure."

"Miss Mona's," they turned toward Tim's voice, with questioning looks. He bent down and picked up a small paper from the coffee table. "Receipt for it, right here. We drove past it on our way here."

Gibbs nodded, "Let's finish up here, then you and Ziva go over to Miss Mona's and see if they can give you a name."

"Mr. Palmer, let's get the Petty Officer ready to go, shall we?" Ducky said as Gibbs headed out of the house. Just then, the doctor's cell phone began to ring, which seemed to surprise him a great deal. "Excuse me a moment, Jimmy," he said as he stood and removed a glove so he could fetch the phone from his pocket. Looking at the caller ID, he narrowed his eyes and made his way out of the house before answering. "Anthony, is everything alright?"

_"Hey, Ducky," _Tony's voice sounded on the other line, slightly distressed. _"Sorry to bug you, but I didn't wanna interrupt Gibbs if he was in the middle of something..."_

"What seems to be the matter? Are you in pain?" Ducky spotted Gibbs who was heading toward his car, and started after him.

_"Not really... I dunno what's goin' on, Duck. I feel like I can't breathe. I keep trying to calm myself down, but these thoughts pop up in my head and... Ducky, is Gibbs okay?"_

"Yes, Jethro is just fine, Anthony. Do you want to talk with him?"

_"N- no, that's okay. I don't wanna distract him. Forget I called, okay?"_

"Tony, now listen to me," Ducky said as he slowed his pace, catching Gibbs' eye in the distance. "You may be experiencing an anxiety attack. Just try and lie down and take some deep breaths. But if you should begin to feel any pain, I want you to let me know straight away."

_"Okay," _his voice cracked.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

_"Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Ducky," _the call ended, and Ducky looked up as Gibbs approached his with curious concern written on his face.

"Everything okay, Duck?" Gibbs asked, concerned for his friend who seemed slightly taken back by the phone call.

"That was Anthony," Ducky told him, and Gibbs' concern shot up all the more.

"What's wrong? Why didn't he call _me_?"

"He didn't want to disturb you, and he insists that he's fine."

"Is he sick?"

"He says he's not in any pain, but he seemed a bit distressed. He needed to know that you were okay."

Gibbs took a breath as he contemplated the situation. "Tell McGee to call me if they locate Adler," he said as he turned to get into his car...

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It was a thirty-minute drive which unfortunately took just that long, even though Gibbs had tried his best to get there faster. He rushed up to the house, slowed down only by the fact that he'd needed to unlock the door. Stepping inside, he first cast his eyes over the living room, then into the kitchen, noticing the container of sandwiches; one mostly eaten left on a plate that sat beside it. But Tony was no where to be seen.

He considered calling out, but on the off-chance Tony might have fallen asleep, he voted against it. So he headed upstairs, ducking into the guest room. Not seeing the agent, he turned to head back out, but stopped when he heard a soft sound coming from the bathroom. He quickly made his way toward the door, gently pushing it open to find Tony sitting with his back against the tub and his arms holding his knees tightly against his chest; his forehead rested against his kneecaps as he silently wept. He rocked back and forth almost imperceptibly.

"Tony..." Gibbs knelt down beside him and his agent's head shot up immediately.

"Boss?" Gibbs hadn't expected it, but Tony shifted from where he sat and threw his arms around him, hugging him tightly. He could only respond by hugging him in return. "I'm so sorry," he cried.

"It's okay, Tony. Don't be sorry," he stroked the back of his agent's head in effort to comfort him through whatever seemed to have him so distraught. "What happened?"

"I dunno... Soon as you left, I started feelin' like...maybe you weren't comin' back..."

"You've been like this all morning?"

"N- no..." he sniffed. "Tried to eat...tried to calm myself down, but it just kept getting worse. I ended up in here...felt like...felt like I was back in that box again, Boss..." his hands clenched into fists-full of Gibbs' suit coat.

"You shoulda called me," Gibbs told him, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw as he fought to steady the shaking man in his arms. "Come on. Let's get you outta here," he moved to stand, pulling Tony up with him. Gibbs lead him into the bedroom as they separated, and Tony ducked his head, hiding his face from him.

"I'm sorry," he told him in barely a whisper. "You had to leave work because I can't handle being alone..."

"Hey," Gibbs turned to face him again and crooked a finger under Tony's chin, forcing him to look at him. "This is the first we've been separated since bein' back. I'd be lyin' if I said I hadn't felt a bit unhinged, myself. And you didn't ask me to come home. I needed to be sure you were okay."

Tony swallowed and blinked as his eyes darted about between them. "What do I do, Boss? I can't keep expecting you to run back here every time I start freakin' out for no reason."

"You're gonna be fine, Tony."

Tony ducked his head again, shaking it as he frowned, "I don't _feel_ like I'm gonna be fine," his voice cracked. "Not when you're not here..."

"Because I pulled you outta that box," he reminded him. Tony met his eyes again. Gibbs put his hands on Tony's shoulders, "You're not goin' back there, Tony." He could feel the shiver that ran through Tony's body as his eyes became downcast. Gibbs' hand moved up to the side of Tony's face, and Tony flinched, reaching out to grab the front of his boss's shirt. The simple act caused something to break inside of Gibbs; the memory of Tony being nearly unresponsive when he pulled him from that box the last time...the thought that he'd become lost within himself after everything that had happened...

He remembered how his heart sank as he held him in that cell, wondering if his senior agent would be lost to them... Gibbs pulled Tony back into an embrace as he felt tears begin to sting his own eyes. "It's gonna be okay," he told him, and perhaps himself as well...

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Ziva and McGee stood, weapons drawn and aimed at one Raymond Adler. When they'd entered the dance studio, he had been arguing with another man and all but confessing to having killed the Petty Officer. The man he'd been arguing with obviously worked at the studio, and was now huddled on one side of the room with a female co-worker. Adler's gun was aimed on them.

"Lower your weapon, Adler," McGee told him. "You don't wanna do anything stupid."

"It's too late for that," Adler replied, flatly.

"It is not too late to stop this from ending very badly for you," Ziva said.

"It's already over!" he shouted, looking over at them in anguish.

"Tell us what happened with Petty Officer Reginald," Tim requested.

"You're not supposed to be here," he replied. "I'm not finished yet. He's not _here_ yet."

"Who is not here?" Ziva asked.

"The sonofabitch who was sleeping with my girlfriend!" he yelled. "He won't be here for another ten minutes. I'm not going anywhere before then."

"We're not gonna let you kill him, Adler," McGee said. "Just lower your weapon and end this."

Adler was quiet for a long time, seemingly contemplating his options. Tim and Ziva shared a glance and she gave him a quick nod, indicating that she could take the shot if needed.

"Guess I'll just skip to the end, then," Adler said. And after a moment, he began to turn the gun on himself. Ziva reacted quickly, pulling the trigger to shoot Adler's trigger hand, which caused him to yell out as the gun dropped from his hand. McGee moved fast to apprehend Adler as Ziva retrieved the weapon...

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"You feelin' any better?" Gibbs asked as he sat across the kitchen table from him with a cup of coffee.

"Guess so," Tony said quietly. "I just don't really understand why I wig out when you leave." He tried to smirk.

"Well, you were taken from your apartment when you went in alone. It's the first time you were put in that box and it was the longest you'd spent in it. Pretty sure that's got somethin' to do with it."

"Maybe," he looked down at the table-top. "But I know Griswald is dead. And I know everyone else is in custody. I know, in my head, that it's not gonna happen again," he looked back at Gibbs. "So why can't I convince that to whatever part of my brain insists on being afraid still?"

"It's only been a couple days, DiNozzo. You gotta give it time. I'm sure it'll get easier."

"But I know I'm safe now," he said with frustration in his voice. "I do my best not to even think about it, but it doesn't seem to make a difference. When you left this morning, I was thinkin' about having somethin' to eat. That's all! Then outta nowhere my heart starts pounding in my chest and I can't breathe. And even _then_, I knew what was happening! I knew I was panicking and I knew I needed to just calm the hell down... Damnit!" he pounded a fist onto the table as he closed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, remaining silent so he could get this out of his system. He could tell that Tony was fighting against his own emotions; trying desperately to regain composure before even losing it. He could even sense the embarrassment his agent was feeling at his loss of control. But after a few long moments, he seemed to have convinced himself to calm.

"Maybe you can just knock me out before going to work, Boss," he said with a lighter attitude.

Gibbs smirked and was about to reply when his phone rang. "Hold that thought," he told Tony as he reached into his pocket and answered the cell. "Yeah, Gibbs." He paused for a moment at McGee's voice on the other line. "You both okay?" his eyes narrowed as he listened. "Get a statement from them. Have Ducky call me once he's confirmed the cause of death. Good work, McGee."

"Everything okay?" Tony asked with a furrowed brow.

"Yeah. Case closed in record time, apparently."

"Guess that means you can stay home?" he felt pathetic even saying it.

Gibbs cocked his head, "Don't see why not."

"I was thinkin'... maybe everyone could come back over for dinner tonight... since Ziva made so much food and all."

"Feelin' up to company now?" Gibbs was slightly surprised.

"I think so. It'd probably be a little easier if you didn't have to deal with me all alone," he smirked.

"Okay," Gibbs gave him a small smile. "I'll give 'em a call in a bit..."

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**tbc...**

**A/N: I was super tired writing this. Might end up editing at some point, but it's time for bed, seriously. Hope you liked it. More to come soon...well, within 48 hours tops.**


	11. Chapter 11

Gibbs carried a coffee mug down to the basement and poured himself a shot of bourbon. As he set the bottle down, his cell rang. He took a swig of his drink as he checked the called ID, then answered, "Hey, Duck. You comin' to dinner?"

_"Actually, Jethro, that's why I'm calling. I'm afraid I'll be stuck here a bit longer than expected. But I've called in some medication for Anthony, and McGee has agreed to pick it up on his way there."_

"What kinda meds?"

_"An anti-anxiety medication, just to get him through these next few days. We'll see how he does with them. They shouldn't affect his ability to work. I discussed this with him briefly a bit earlier."_

"Didn't say anything to me," he replied. "But I guess I understand why."

_"How is he doing at the moment?"_

"Sleepin' right now. I'll be wakin' him up in a bit so he can get ready for company."

_"I'm glad he's getting some rest. I'll try and stop by once I get out of here; check up on the two of you."_

"Okay, Duck," he said, and ended the call.

**11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11 111 11**

Ziva was hard at work in the kitchen with Gibbs, reheating one of the meals on the stove and setting the table, when there was a knock at the door. "I got it," Gibbs said as he set down the pile of plates onto the table. He made his way to the door, seeing McGee as he opened it.

"Hey, Boss," he said as he held up a small paper bag. "Ducky asked me to pick this up for Tony."

"Yeah, he told me," Gibbs replied as he took the bag, "Thanks." He moved from the door, allowing Tim to enter and shut the door before following him into the kitchen. "And good job, both of you, on finishing up the case without me today. I appreciate the extra work you've been puttin' in."

"It was pretty much an open and shut case," McGee said. "Not a big deal. And we're happy to help...in any way we can." Gibbs knew what he meant by that; helping _Tony_. "Where's Tony?" he glanced around.

"He was in the shower when I arrived," Ziva told him. "He should be down any minute."

Gibbs thought for a moment where he stood, then looked at McGee, "You finish settin' the table; I'll go see if he's about ready," he grabbed the bag on his way out of the kitchen.

Once Tim heard his boss's footsteps climbing the stairs, he glanced at Ziva, "So is Tony okay? Did Gibbs say anything?"

Ziva brought the pan of pasta to the table, glancing at McGee before scooping some of the concoction onto a plate. "He is healing," she told him. When she didn't elaborate, McGee felt he shouldn't push the subject further, and continued setting the table...

*~.~*

Gibbs tapped lightly on the open door of the guest room, seeing the light from the bathroom door which was also open. Without a response from Tony, he decidedly entered the room and approached the bathroom, seeing Tony standing in front of the mirror, closely examining the cuts on his face. "You've had worse," Gibbs told him.

"Yeah," Tony replied, calmly. "Not by my own hands, though."

"It wasn't really your fault," Gibbs told him, and Tony turned away from the mirror to face him.

"Well...thanks for stopping me from mutilating myself further," he said in a quiet voice before glancing at the bag in Gibbs' hand. "That the meds Duck called in for me?"

Gibbs had nearly forgotten he was holding anything, and glanced down before replying, "Yeah," he handed the bag to Tony. "Thought I'd bring 'em up, in case you felt like you needed one before dinner." He narrowed his eyes for a split second, rethinking what he'd just said and hoping Tony hadn't taken it the wrong way. Thankfully, he seemed grateful for the idea as he opened the bag and pulled out the bottle.

He held it up to the light before opening the top and pulling one of the tiny white pills out into his hand. Before allowing himself to think any further about it, he popped it into his mouth and replaced the cap, setting the bottle down on the counter top. "Ziva must be here already," he assumed.

"McGee too," Gibbs told him. "Abby's gonna be a little late, and Ducky won't be here for dinner, but he'll stop by once he gets outta autopsy." Tony nodded in acknowledgment and Gibbs cocked his head. "You need a few minutes?"

Tony met his eyes and shook his head, "No, Boss." He smirked, "Let's do this."

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"I'll never understand the logic behind killin' someone because ya don't wanna share," Tony commented on the discussion of the case they'd worked that day. "It's gotta be one of the most pointless, narcissistic states of mind imaginable."

"I'd have to agree," McGee said after swallowing the last bit of his dinner. "Hey, Ziva, this was really good. Thanks."

"Yeah, it _was_ good," Tony agreed. "Then again, I don't think I've ever not enjoyed your cooking," he grinned.

"Ziva always makes the best food," Abby said as she placed her plate into the sink.

"I am glad you enjoyed it," she smiled before standing to take her own plate to the sink. Gibbs got up to put his own dish in the sink and began washing the dishes with Abby's help. McGee grabbed Tony's plate when he got up to clear his own.

"Thanks, Probie," Tony said as he stood and made his way into the living room to plop down onto the couch. Ziva casually sat down beside him, curling her legs up beside her. He smirked at her, "Miss me at the office yet?"

She squinted as her lips curved into a grin, "You have only actually missed a few days. But yes, we are most definitely aware of your absence."

Tony made a face at her, "Oh don't you worry. I'll be back, day after tomorrow, to brighten up your day."

"We'll see about that," Gibbs said as he entered the room, drying his hands on a towel. "You two want a beer?"

"Sure, Boss," Tony answered, as did Ziva.

"I've got it, Gibbs," Abby smiled as she walked past him with four bottles of beer, letting Ziva and Tony grab one, then turning to hand one to Gibbs.

"Thanks, Abs," he smirked and kissed her cheek before sitting in the chair across from the couch. Abby sat down at Tony's other side and snuggled close to him as she opened her bottle.

Tony sighed and rested back into the couch, "I dunno if it's the drugs, or the fact that I've got a beautiful lady on either side of me," he said as he draped his arms behind them both, "But I am really happy right now," he smiled. McGee smirked from where he leaned against the doorway before taking a sip of his drink.

Gibbs shook his head and grinned, but decidedly stood and grabbed the beer from Tony's dangling hand, "Forgot you were on meds for a minute there."

"Boss!" his face was a picture of surprise and disappointment.

"Don't argue, DiNozzo," he replied as he headed to the kitchen. "You'll have to okay it with Ducky, first."

"Ssh," Abby handed him her beer and he quickly took a few long gulps before sneaking it back to her with an appreciative grin.

"Saw that, Abby," Gibbs shouted from the kitchen.

"No you didn't!" she yelled back. Ziva laughed through her nose. Abby looked over at a smiling McGee, "Come on, Timmy. There's plenty of room," she patted the cushion beside her as she scooted even closer to Tony. McGee crossed the room and wedged into the small space between her and the armrest, easily. Abby relaxed back a bit against him. "Now _I'm_ happy, too," she grinned. Tim blushed almost uncontrollably.

"Now, children," Tony narrowed his eyes to accompany a mischievous grin. "Don't go buildin' up to breakin' rule twelve. Especially not on Gibbs' couch... Of course, that'd be...kinda hot," he smirked.

"This is what happens when you don't behave, Abs," Gibbs said as he sank down into the chair once more, desperately trying to fight off the smile that threatened to beam through.

Abby got a defensive look on her face that was only slightly masked with her ultimate amusement, "Don't blame this on _me_, Bossman. You gotta admit, this is a pretty hot team. It was bound to happen sometime."

"Are you suggesting a team orgy, Abigail Sciuto?" Tony said in a playful voice as he carefully watched the reddening of Tim's face grow brighter.

"Guys! Seriously!" McGee shot them a glare.

"Relax, Probie," Tony laughed. "I know the first one's always a bit awkward at the beginning..."

"Okay, I think that's my cue to go," McGee stood.

"Ha _ha_!" Tony laughed and held out his hand in front of Abby, "Pay up, Abs!"

"Man, Timmy!" Abby scrunched up her face as she handed a five dollar bill to Tony. "I thought, for sure, you'd hold on longer than _that_!"

McGee furrowed a brow in their direction, "You were betting on who could freak me out the fastest?" disbelief was thick in his voice. "When did you even have time to conspire?"

"It is a withstanding bet, McGee," Ziva explained with a grin.

Tim stood there for a moment, glancing between each of his team member before sitting back down with a huff, "You guys are unbelievable."

"But not completely unpredictable," Gibbs told McGee with a smirk.

"That _is_ true, Probie," Tony said as he leaned over to pick up the remote. "Some day you'll have us figured out. I was sure you would've begun to adapt a bit at least, by now. Who's up for some Magnum P.I?" he said as he clicked on the television.

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**tbc...**


	12. Chapter 12

**Just a quick A/N to say thanks to everyone for the continued support :)**

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_Tony's eyes were closed, but he could feel his boss beside him, holding him and keeping him from being taken...at least for the moment. They were the only moments he felt safe in that place; when he could feel him beside him. If he moved, even a little bit, he would grab out and cling to him, making sure they couldn't take either of them away..._

"Hey," McGee whispered to grab Abby's attention, and motioned toward Tony, who was fast asleep. Gibbs looked over as well, noticing that the agent had somehow managed to wind up using Ziva's arm as a pillow. But she met Gibbs' eyes with a look of contentment that indicated it was of no bother to her. "I should probably head outta here," McGee said in a continued hushed voice as he stood.

"Yeah, me too," Abby stood, careful not to move too quickly and wake Tony. Gibbs stood and followed them out to the porch. "He's doing better, it seems," Abby said before giving Gibbs a hug goodbye. He nodded in agreement.

"Thanks for coming tonight," he told them. "Means a lot to him, and it was nice to see him back to his usual self."

"Yeah, it was," Tim agreed.

"Even if you _were_ the target of some of his fun tonight?" Abby grinned.

McGee decidedly nodded, "Yeah, well...like he said, I should be used to it by now. Guess I kinda am."

Gibbs smirked and reached out to ruffle the hair at the top of Tim's head, "See ya Monday." He turned to go back into the house as they headed toward their cars. After quietly closing the door, he headed into the living room and noted the change in Tony's position. He'd turned and curled a bit on his side, facing Ziva; forehead against her shoulder and his hand just below it, lightly fisting the sleeve of her shirt. But he was still fast asleep.

Ziva met Gibbs' eyes, a looked of slight concern written in them, and he walked over to shut off the television before coming to sit on the coffee table in front of them. "As soon as Abby got up, he did this," she told him. Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment. "Should we wake him and take him upstairs?" He considered the question as he appraised Tony. "I do not mind staying here tonight, Gibbs, if it helps."

Gibbs saw a flash of something in her eyes as they focused somewhere in the air between them. She was clearly thinking back to when they'd found them in the cell; the way Tony had clung to Gibbs... He saw headlights as a car pulled up to the house, and he knew it was Ducky by the sound of the engine. Gibbs stood, bending slightly to kiss Ziva's forehead, "If you could, just for a little while longer while I talk to Duck."

She nodded and gave him a small smile before he walked back toward the door. He met the M.E out on the porch, "Hey, Duck."

"Good evening, Jethro. How did everything go?" he asked as he climbed the steps toward him.

"He did really well, actually. But he fell asleep a little while ago on Ziva."

"That explains why hers is the only remaining visiting vehicle," Ducky smirked. "Did she fall asleep as well?"

"Nah, she's up. Tony took one of those pills you called in for him, before dinner. That's probably what aided in him fallin' asleep so easily."

"That's possible, yes. It made him comfortable enough to do so, I imagine."

"Ya hungry, Ducky? Plenty of leftovers," he turned to lead him into the house.

"Quite near starving, actually," Ducky said with a slight laugh. "I'd be honored to have a bit of Ziva's cooking." The two of them were quiet as they entered the living room and looked over to Tony and Ziva.

"Go ahead and get yourself somethin'," Gibbs told Ducky, quietly. "I'm gonna see if I can't just take him upstairs." Ducky disappeared into the kitchen as Gibbs walked to the couch and sat down beside Tony. He met Ziva's eyes, "Might be best if we don't wake him at all."

"Do you think you can lift him?" she whispered.

"Only one way to find out," he replied with raised brows. He surveyed the angle and position, surmising that, before anything, he'd need to coax Tony's hand from Ziva's shirt sleeve. Gibbs gently grabbed Tony's wrist and placed his other hand across his back, with plans to, once Tony's hand was free, scoop him up grabbing under the agent's knees to carry him up the stairs as if he were a child.

But the feeling of being suddenly pulled from where he was clinging, startled Tony from his sleep, throwing him into a panic. His whole body tensed and his breath hitched. "No..." he grabbed hold of Ziva's arm with both of his; his eyes not focusing clearly as he struggled out of Gibbs' grasp.

Gibbs let go of him immediately, moving to the coffee table in effort to allow Tony to see who he was. Ziva placed her hands on either side of Tony's face, "Tony...you are home. You are safe," she told him as she calmly stroked his cheeks and gave him a moment to focus. "Gibbs was just trying to help you up to bed," she explained.

Tony blinked a few times, allowing the words to help coax him back to reality. "Ziva?" his brow furrowed.

"Yes," she gave him a small smile. "And Gibbs," she tilted her head slightly in his direction, and Tony looked over at him.

"Oh..." he loosened his grasp on Ziva's arm and slowly lowered his head. "Sorry," he said in barely a whisper. Then he pushed up off of the couch to stand, "Guess I should head upstairs."

Gibbs stood as well, partly blocking Tony's path, and met his eyes before moving out of his way. Ziva followed after him. "I will walk you up," she told Tony, glancing briefly at Gibbs as he nodded his thanks to her.

Tony couldn't have felt more embarrassed if he'd tried. The fact that Ziva was following close behind him, made him even more anxious. "I'm good, Zi," he told her as he entered the guest room.

"I know," she replied simply. He stopped beside the bed and simply stood there, waiting for her to say her farewell and leave him alone. But she didn't leave. She was soon standing beside him, facing his profile, and he found himself turning his face away from her slightly. "You should not feel ashamed of having nightmares, Tony," she told him before setting a comforting hand on the bicep closest to her. "I had them quite often, for a long time."

After a moment of calculating what she might be referring to, he turned his face in her direction. But he remained silent, only conveying question through expression. He swallowed as her eyes bore into his for what seemed like ages. Then she spoke, "I know that we are both very different people. But I also know that you are feeling the same fear as I did; afraid that I would somehow be less capable of doing my job; consistently pursuing the goal of proving everyone wrong, despite my uncanny ability to hide any emotion I had felt at the time. You are afraid, Tony...and no one even presumes to believe that you cannot come back from this."

"You were gone for months..." he interjected.

"Yes. You were gone for a day. If I can come through what I did, I _know_ that you can as well."

"I wasn't raised to be an assassin, Ziva. You were raised to have super-human capabilities, especially in situations like that..."

"Do you think that I felt no pain?" her voice rose, slightly offended. "Because I was raised to be capable of doing some of those same things to other people...somehow, what they did to me bore no damage? Do you realize how difficult..." her composure slipped for a fraction of a second, but Tony caught it, and it made him flinch slightly. "To be _expected_ to recover from what happened there," she said in whispered voice, "Wasn't what hurt the most, Tony. What hurt the most, was the fact that my friends...my team was there for me, willing to help or to listen...and I pushed it aside to deal with on my own. Out of all the things that happened in Somalia, my greatest injury was the one I inflicted upon myself."

Tony narrowed his eyes as he turned around and sunk down to sit on the edge of the bed. Ziva sat down beside him and he met her eyes again. "Why?" he asked, and she knew what he was referring to.

She looked down at her knees as she folded her hands and placed them in her lap. "I...did not want to be seen differently," she began, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands. "Everything that I am...everything I have shown myself to be on this team..." she closed her eyes and shook her head in frustration, not knowing exactly how to explain this to him. "I could not start asking for help when I never needed to before," she looked at him then. "That is not who I am, and if I had started to be that person, would it have not worried you even more-so than my silence?"

"You didn't have to ask, Ziva," he told her. "Remember, _I_ asked _you_..."

"Yes, Tony. You did... Can you not see where I made my mistake? We are all here for you," she put a hand on his cheek and she shifted more to face him. "But you keep running away whenever you need us, and you do not have to. You are more afraid of what we will think, then of what he did to you. Do not let him win, Tony... Do not make the same mistake that I did..."

"I'm not as good at hiding it as you are," he said quietly.

"As you said," she smirked, "I was raised to be an assassin. But I keep getting the feeling that _you_, in some different way, were raised with the same belief that fear or sadness makes you weak." Tony looked away from her. "You do a better job than most at hiding it, Tony. But when it is too much...when you find yourself bursting at the seams, do not burden yourself even further by worrying about what _we_ will think. We know that you are a good man; a strong man. And you are a great agent." When he remained turned away, she moved from the bed to stand in front of him and took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. "No one questions that, Tony," she narrowed her eyes as they darted back and forth between his. She saw that he was at least absorbing what she'd told him, and she leaned down, placing a kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight," she let her hands fall from his face, then turned to leave him to his thoughts...

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"He already has a therapist, Jethro," Ducky said quietly as they talked at the kitchen table. "He simply needs to make an appointment."

"Tony's countin' on comin' back to work Monday, Duck."

"Well, if you're asking for my opinion on whether or not he's ready, I'm afraid there's only one way to find out for sure. But I would, however, suggest that _you_ talk to someone about the experience." Gibbs cocked his head and looked slightly amused. "Yes, I thought you might respond that way."

"In case you forgot, I wasn't the one hurt."

"On the contrary, and I can't believe I have to say this again, you were the target of Griswald's torture. Did you forget that?" his eyes locked on Gibbs'. Luckily for him, Ziva appeared in the doorway.

"Gibbs, can I speak with you for a moment?" she asked, and Gibbs pushed up from the table. He walked past her toward the basement door and she followed him down the steps. He went straight for the bottle of bourbon.

"Drink?" he asked as he poured a shot into his coffee mug.

"No, thank you. I'll be leaving shortly."

He turned to face her, mug in hand, "What'd you need to speak to me about?" he asked before taking a sip.

"I wanted to inform you that I...watched the video footage," she told him, and his brows raised in question. "It is secured in evidence now. But I needed to see it, Gibbs. I needed to know what happened...so that I could be of help, if necessary." Gibbs remained silent, but kept his eyes on her. She grew a bit nervous. "I did not mean to invade your privacy... But I did not want to be the only one on the team who did not know."

"Coulda read the report, Ziva," he narrowed his eyes.

"I did," she told him. "It is not the same thing. I have seen many things in my life, Gibbs. I knew I could handle it. I just...wanted to let you know that I had."

"Why?" he asked as he set his empty cup down on the bench. "Why did you wanna let me know?"

"Because...if the roles were reversed and you did the same as I did, I would want you to tell me."

"Did you tell Tony?"

She furrowed her brow and looked away for just a second, "No. But only because I...I..." she shook her head to clear her thoughts. "He would believe that I was speaking to him purely out of pity. And that is not what he needs right now." After a moment, Gibbs nodded and sank down onto a stool as he rubbed his palms roughly against his forehead. "Ducky was right, you know," she said, and he dropped his hands onto his lap as he looked up at her. "The torture was targeted at you." He turned his head away, much like Tony had done to her earlier. But she walked up closer to him and he was forced to look back up at her. "If I had had the privilege of my friend's survival after similar circumstances, I would have wanted, very much, to be able to talk it through with _them_."

There was something very personalized by the way she'd said it, and the way her eyes now glistened, Gibbs knew that it wasn't just a hypothetical comparison. Any frustration he might have felt up to that point, dissipated, and he stood and pulled her into an embrace. "Ziver..."

She returned the hug, feeling slightly displaced, but hell-bent on letting herself _feel_ and show it; as if some kind of representative light for her colleagues. "Sometimes it is just not enough to kill..." she said in barely a whisper. "Do not allow Griswald to keep doing this to both of you."

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**tbc...**


	13. Chapter 13

**Apologies on the delay. Life happens! Actually had a REAL Friday night with my BFF- Then my daughter's recital was today...er, well...technically, now, it was yesterday. :) **

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_Gibbs sat in the cell beside Tony. His senior agent was curled up, sleeping on the cold concrete floor; his back planted firmly against Gibbs' thigh as if an anchor holding him together. Gibbs felt the overwhelming need to protect him... He knew what was about to happen, but he thought somehow he could protect him this time._

_ The masked men flooded into the room and Gibbs reached out and grabbed Tony, holding him tightly in his arms as he yelled for them to leave them alone. But they easily pried Tony from his arms as if he'd barely been holding him at all... and when he tried to fight them off, he was powerless. He watched Tony as he struggled, flailing his limbs in effort to escape..._

_ "_"_Ple-he-hease!" Tony cried out as the shoved him down into the box, cruelly. "Boss, please! Help me!"_

_ "It'll be okay, Tony...I promise you!"_

Gibbs sat up in his bed, heart pounding in his chest from the memory he'd just relived in his dream. As he drifted more fully into consciousness, he made efforts to calm himself; trying to catch his breath and allow his heart to slow a bit. When he became aware that he was literally shaking, he realized that Ducky had been right...

Gibbs threw the covers from his legs and turned to push up from the bed with an insatiable need to check on Tony. He glanced briefly at the clock, seeing it was merely two in the morning, before heading toward the quest room. Tony was on his side facing away from where Gibbs stood in the doorway and he waited for the expanding of the agent's chest to indicate that he was breathing, before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Boss?" Tony turned around when he sensed his boss's presence.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, "I didn't mean to wake you," he told him in a hushed voice.

Tony sat up to face him more clearly, "You didn't. I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," Gibbs replied simply. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I..." he squinted as his eyes darted around in the air between them. "It's just that...I didn't really wanna put myself back there," he met his eyes again. "Don't wanna dream..."

Gibbs nodded, understanding all too well. "But you really should try and rest, Tony."

"Yeah, you too, Boss," he said as he looked him over. "What're you doin' up, anyway?"

Gibbs considered, for a few moments, not revealing why he was up. But then he took into consideration the fact that trust was a two-way street; if he ever expected Tony to be open with him, he'd have to do the same. "Bete noire," he told him. Tony was surprised to hear the confession, but was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. "Needed to make sure you were okay."

Tony considered his words carefully, surprisingly not taking offense by them. Then he quickly thought of a way to attempt to keep him there. "You wanna watch a movie, Boss?" he asked with an unintentional look of plea on his face. "I was thinkin' about watchin' Enemy at the Gates. It's pretty good..."

Normally, he would have refused. But the mere suggestion had suddenly given him great comfort. "Okay," he replied and stepped a bit further into the room as Tony grabbed his portable DVD player.

"C'mon, Boss," he scooted over on the bed to make room, "I don't have cooties or anything. I got myself checked out," he smirked. Gibbs returned the smirk as he casually slid onto the bed beside him, leaning back on the headboard as Tony set up the movie. "Jude Law, Ed Harris and Rachel Weisz...it's all about snipers in World War Two. I think you'll like it." He kept the player on his lap, but turned it slightly toward Gibbs as it began to play.

It wasn't long before Tony was fast asleep; his head having fallen onto Gibbs' shoulder. Feeling him there gave Gibbs great comfort and he soon felt himself drifting off as well; the movie simply being ambient noise. But, of course, this had been their own way of talking. Without words, they managed to confess that they were both in need of each others presence as a way of affirmation and comfort. In the simple act, Gibbs had confessed that he had been just as affected as Tony, and that he needed his agent and much as his agent needed him. That fact, alone, gave Tony the much needed courage to allow himself to _feel..._ and neither of them were troubled by anymore nightmares that night...

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**Monday...**

"Gear up!" Gibbs called as he rounded the corner into the bullpen.

"What do we got, Boss?" McGee asked as the agents readied their bags and weapons.

"Dead Marine found in a parking garage under an office building in Georgetown," he explained as he holstered his gun and put his badge into his pocket. "You up for this, DiNozzo?" he asked as he approached the senior agent's desk.

"Absolutely, Boss," he replied as he threw his pack over his shoulder. Gibbs nodded and headed toward the elevator, his agents following closely behind.

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"Preliminary examination suggests that the Lieutenant died from a gunshot wound to the heart. Which would, of course, mean that death was nearly instantaneous," Ducky explained to Gibbs and his team. "It would seem that he was shot at from a distance. I'd guess at least fifty feet."

"Time of death?" Gibbs asked.

"No more than ten hours, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment. "Go ahead and get him back to autopsy," he told the M.E. "Ziva, find security and get any surveillance footage between closing last night and whenever they opened this morning. DiNozzo, McGee... figure out the trajectory. See if you can't find a casing."

"On it, Boss," Tony said for them as they packed their cameras into their bags.

*~.~*

"Lieutenant Pierson came here yesterday evening to meet with our director," the well-dressed business woman told Gibbs and Ziva as she lead them towards the security office.

"What is it, exactly, that your company does?" Ziva asked her.

"Varicon provides servers for several local small businesses."

"You mean, computer-based storage of information?" Ziva clarified.

"Yes, exactly."

"Has there been any problems with clientele lately?" Gibbs asked.

"I don't think so," she replied. "But you'd have to ask the director."

"Was Lieutenant Pierson a client?" he asked.

"No...actually, he used to work here before he joined the Corp. He was here to see if a co-worker of his still worked here. A...James Carly, if I remember correctly."

"Does he?" Ziva inquired.

"No. In fact, the director said he'd up and left a year ago. This was before my time here. No one's seen or heard from him since. Here we are," she said as they approached the security office door.

"I'm gonna go talk to their director," Gibbs told Ziva. "Call me if you find anything." She nodded and turned to open the door to the office as he walked off with the employee.

"You must be NCIS," the guard turned slightly in his chair.

"Agent David," she extended her hand and he took it.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "You can call me Mike."

"Mike," she gave him a small smile to be polite. "I need to see the-"

"Footage, yeah," he finished for her. "I've been going through everything from closing time last night on. There's no actual footage of the shooting, but I found where the Marine entered the garage," he played the footage for her.

"2300 hours," she noticed the time at the corner of the screen.

"Yeah. We can see him walkin' in toward his car, but then there's nothin'."

"Is this the only camera footage you have been looking at?" she asked.

"Well, it's the only one in parking," he defended.

"Yes, but the Lieutenant was in this building before entering the garage, was he not?"

"Yeah, but we close at nine here," he told her. "We were thinkin' he probably went across the street to grab somethin' to eat before comin' back for his car."

The screen suddenly went black. "Is that the end of the tape?" she asked.

"Apparently the camera went down shortly after he entered," he explained.

Ziva narrowed her eyes, "Whomever shot him did not want to be seen leaving." She thought, silently, for a few moments. "What about inside the building after closing?" she suggested. "Perhaps there was someone in here that you were unaware of, and shooting the Lieutenant was ridding of a witness."

"Nothing's missing, though," he told her. "No evidence of forced entry or anything else that would warrant the belief that someone would wanna be in here."

"Then the only other possibility would be to rewind the tape and see if there is another vehicle that came into the garage and did not leave before the Lieutenant came back."

"Well..." Mike's eyes darted around for a moment in thought before rewinding the tape. "There was a car that pulled in shortly before the Lieutenant came back into the garage," he said. "But the car's still down there; I checked when I saw this the first time."

"Did you find the owner?" she asked with a furrowed brow.

"No...I...I figured someone just went out and got drunk; grabbed a cab home. Happens a lot around here, actually. We give 'em till noon before havin' it towed."

"Find the plate number," she ordered.

"Alright," he said with a bit of a whine in his voice. "But it doesn't really make sense that a person would shoot a guy, then leave without his own car..."

Ziva considered that statement for a moment before her eyes widened with realization. "Unless the car...is what the Lieutenant was killed to distract us from seeing," she said under her breath, then picked up her phone to dial Tony. The call went straight to voice mail and she cursed under her breath as she felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. She dialed Gibbs.

After one ring, he answered, _"Yeah, Gibbs."_

"We may have a problem, Gibbs," she said. "We need to evacuate the building."

_"Why is that?" _he asked.

"I think there might be a bomb in an abandoned vehicle in the garage..."

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**Tbc...**


	14. Chapter 14

Gibbs was running...phone to his ear as he attempted to call his agents who were still in the garage, to no avail. He could hear Ziva and Mike yelling, directing the few dozen employees to exit via the stairwell as quickly as possible. He panicked for a moment, realizing there was no way he'd get down those stairs as quickly as he needed to with all those people in his way. "Ziva!" he yelled and she spun around and approached him. "You get a hold of them?"

"No," she shouted above the noise. "I do not believe they are getting reception down there!"

"I need to get down there...is there another exit?"

"Fire escape," the guard shouted and pointed toward the far corner of the room. "You two go on ahead; I've got this!"

With a quick nod, the two of them headed toward the window that lead out to the emergency metal staircase. It was four floors down. Gibbs dialed Tony again...

*~.~*

"Whoever shot him must've policed his brass," Tony said as they gave up their search for something that was obviously not there. "This his car?"

"The blue Jetta? Yeah. I don't think anyone's been through it yet." Tony got into the driver's seat and began looking through the console and glove compartment. "I'm gonna call Gibbs and let him know we didn't find anything," he said as he pulled out his cell. "Crap...no signal. I'm gonna walk outside and see if I can get one. Be right back," he told him as he turned to head out.

"'Kay, Probie!" Tony shouted right before finding a stack of CDs. "Ah...what do we have here?"

*~.~*

As soon as Tim reached the edge of the garage, his phone rang before he even began to dial. It was Gibbs. "Hey, Boss, I was just about to call-"

_"McGee, you and DiNozzo need to get outta there, now!"_ his voice rang out on the other line.

"What...what's going on?" he panicked.

_"There might be a bomb. Don't wanna take any chances. Get outta there!"_

Tim's eyes widened as he turned back around, dropping his phone into his pocket before he began to sprint back toward his partner. "Tony!" he yelled. He could see him in the distance, but he hadn't heard him. There was a faint sound of music coming from the car and Tony was looking down at the radio. "Tony!" he yelled again. Fifty yards away, he was amazed when Tony made eye-contact with him finally. "We gotta get outta-"

Before he could get the sentence out, the room was suddenly lit up; a loud cracking sound and a force that knocked Tim on his back...

*~.~*

Gibbs and Ziva felt the stairs quake beneath them, and were tossed into the railing as they heard the sound of the explosion. Sharing a quick, panicked glance, they resumed quick pace down the last set of stairs...

*~.~*

McGee pushed himself up and coughed against the smoke, searching out in front of him for the source of the blast. "Oh god..." he felt tears sting his eyes as he realized the blazing vehicle, a mere five car-lengths from where Tony was... The Jetta was covered in debris to the point that he could barely see it anymore. He looked up, realizing that the ceiling had caved in. He could literally see the floor above them... "Tony!" he yelled as he sprinted toward where his friend was buried...

Gibbs and Ziva came running into the garage when they realized the other agents were not outside. They were yelling out for them, but not getting a reply. Through the smoke, Gibbs could see McGee working frantically to remove debris from a vehicle. "McGee!" he shouted as they approached him. Tim didn't respond. Gibbs reached out to grab his arm. "McGee, what are you doin'?" Tim turned to look at him; anguish clearly written on his face. "Where's DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, feeling his heart suddenly clench in his chest.

"H- he's in here..." he replied, turning back to continue his efforts. "I was coming back to get him...he was in Pierson's car...he couldn't hear me...then the bomb..."

"Tony is in _this_?" Ziva asked, horrified. There was no need for an answer. She looked up at the gaping hole in the ceiling. "There is no way..." she said in barely a whisper.

"Don't say that!" McGee shouted as he looked at her in anger; tears brimming his eyes. And just as quickly, he turned away from her and began throwing debris away from the crushed vehicle.

Gibbs had frozen for a few moments, taking in the damage of the vehicle in front of them. The top of it was completely caved flat in line with the hood by the collapsed concrete ceiling. There was no way they could move that... But Gibbs suddenly pushed himself toward the debris to assist in removing what he could. "Ziva, call...call and see how long before help arrives," he told her. "Call Duck...tell him to get back here..."

She nodded and turned to sprint out of the garage. Tim cleared big bits of broken concrete from beside the car, attempting to get to the door. "Tony?" he shouted, hoping to hear some kind of response. Gibbs stilled for a moment, straining to hear as well. When they heard nothing, Gibbs climbed onto the hood and pulled another large piece of debris from where the dome of the car used to be. "DiNozzo?" he yelled as they stilled their movements. Nothing...

McGee resumed his frantic attempt to clear the space beside the car. Gibbs ran a hand down his face, trying to keep hold of whatever hope he might have of finding his agent alive. He swallowed against the lump in his throat and bit back tears that threatened to fall... Why had he let him come to work today? He could've had every reason to make him stay home...at least today... But now, Tony could be dead...they might have already lost him.

Gibbs frowned, pushing the thought from his mind as he bent down to continue his efforts. And then, as if a sign from above, they heard it... They heard Tony calling out...

*~.~*

Tony forced his eyes open, unaware of what had happened for a few moments. All he knew right then, was that he was in the dark. His head and chest hurt, and he coughed in attempt to stop the fluttering in his chest. He tried to move, and was stopped immediately by a sharp pain in his leg. He felt himself cry out, but didn't hear it...

He began to panic, trying to remember what was happening; how he got in this position yet again. He reached out in front of him, hands hitting what he immediately recognized as a car stereo. Then he remembered...

McGee had called out to him and he looked over, just before an...explosion? Tony remembered seeing it, and ducking down into the seat. But then everything came crashing down on top of him. Now he was trapped...again. And there was no way of knowing whether or not he would get out of there...or if they even thought he was still alive.

Tony decided to assess the situation, however that might come to be. He pressed his hands above him, realizing there was very little room between where he was laying and the hood of the car, which was now mere inches over his horizontal form. He reached down toward the pain in his leg and realized that the steering wheel was folded over and crushing him right above the knee. Knowing this fact somehow made the pain worse.

Tony wished he'd not left his backpack outside of the car... that's where he'd left his flashlight. Then he had a thought and reached out in front of him again, feeling for the glove compartment. He soon found it and forced it open; a soft light poured from it, but only lit up enough to see inside the compartment. To his luck, there was a small flashlight there, and he grabbed it, flicking it on quickly and shining it all around him.

What he thought would be comforting, having a source of light, seemed to only backfire as it revealed a clearer picture of the situation. There was no opening; no sign of escape around him. He could see the concrete that he surmised was rubble from the ceiling of the garage... That was it. He was buried alive. No one would be able to get him out of this...

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"Sir! You need to get out of here!" a fireman shouted to Gibbs. "There's no telling if the rest of this place is gonna come down!"

"My agent is trapped under here!" he yelled back over the loudness of the emergency vehicles. "I'm not leavin' here without him!"

"There's no way you can get that concrete off of there, Sir! And even if you did, there's a high possibility the rest of that ceiling will collapse right back on top of it!"

"What part of what I said, don't you understand?" Gibbs glared. "You need me to sign a damn waiver or somethin'? 'Cause unless you've got a way to get him outta here, I'm not leavin'!"

The fireman met Gibbs' glare for a moment, then squinted in thought, seemingly understanding the man's thoughts. "I'll see if I can find something to help break through," he told him and turned to sprint out of the garage.

Gibbs took a deep breath as he watched him go. It'd been half an hour since the bomb went off. He'd sent Ziva back to the office to track down the owner of the car while he and McGee stayed behind attempting to remove the debris and free their friend.

He turned around to see Tim struggling to pull a large block of concrete and he moved to help him. "McGee," he put a hand over his to stop him. "Hold on a second. Your hand's bleeding."

"It's nothing, Boss. Just scraped it on some debris. We can't stop right now..."

"Tim-"

"We can't stop, Boss!" he said louder, his frustration clear on his face. "Tony could be bleeding...running out of air! We haven't heard him in over twenty minutes..." he turned back to the block of debris and gripped onto it. Gibbs gripped the other side of it, without responding verbally to McGee's words.

"On three," he told him. He counted, and they pulled with all their might, grunting with their efforts. They were about to give up, when suddenly it began to pull loose and they had to duck out of the way as it fell backward onto the ground. The hole revealed was maybe a foot in diameter.

McGee scrambled to look in, "Tony?" he called into the darkness. There was no sign of a reply from inside. "Can't see anything," he said as he fumbled for his flashlight on his key-chain. Gibbs peered into the hole as McGee shined the light into it. Both men froze as they saw him lying there, unmoving...

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**Tbc...**


	15. Chapter 15

"Go get Ducky," Gibbs said as he took the flashlight from Tim's hand. But Tim acted as though he hadn't heard him; still staring, dumbfounded, into the opening. "McGee!" he shouted and Tim looked at him. "Get Ducky, now!" McGee scrambled to his feet and hurried down from the pile of rubble and sprinted toward the exit outside.

Gibbs turned his attention back to Tony's still form. "Tony..." he called out as he moved closer, trying to fit his arm through to touch him. He reached down and grabbed the only thing he could; Tony's calf, and was surprised when the agent flinched and gasped, opening his eyes wide and searching for whatever was touching him.

He saw the light coming from somewhere above his feet; saw a hand on his uninjured leg. He gripped the flashlight in his hands and turned it on, pointing it toward the person. "Boss?" he said, but his own voice sounded muted and hollow. He could see Gibbs' mouth moving; hear the same muffled sounds, but couldn't understand what was being said. "Can't hear, Boss..." He felt the hand squeeze on his calf a bit, a sign of comfort the only way he could convey in this position. "My leg's stuck. I can't get out."

Tony watched as Gibbs pointed the light at the steering wheel that was trapping him. He stuck the flashlight into his teeth and reached out to try and lift the offending object, but Tony yelled out from the sudden burning pain as it seemed to only twist against him. Gibbs released the wheel and pointed the light back at Tony. The agent was holding the sides of his head, grimacing at an unseen pain. His head hurt, and it only seemed to throb more now. But then he heard his boss speak; still muffled and slightly muted, but he could understand him.

"We're gonna get you outta here, DiNozzo," Gibbs told him.

Tony fixed his eyes on his boss again, "Okay... okay..."

"Can you hear me?" Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

"Little..."

"Good," Gibbs sighed in a bit of relief. "Hang on, Tony," he said as he pulled out of the opening.

"No, Boss! Don't...don't leave me here!" he panicked.

Gibbs looked back at him, "I'm not goin' anywhere. Just gotta figure out how to do this. McGee's here, and Ducky, too. We're gonna do everything we can to get you out soon, okay?" He could see the panic in Tony's eyes and the labored breath that confirmed it. "I'm not leaving you, Tony," he told him firmly. "I'll be right here." Once Tony nodded in confirmation, Gibbs' face disappeared from the opening and Tony let his head fall back onto the seat and closed his eyes.

*~.~*

"He's okay," Gibbs told Ducky as he and McGee approached the car. "But he's trapped under the steering wheel. Don't think we can get him outta the opening unless we can break it open a little more."

"The fireman said he's locating a concrete saw," McGee told him. "They've got one at the station and someone's bringing it by now."

"Okay, well that still leaves us with the problem of getting the wheel enough away from his leg to get him free," Gibbs said.

"They should have a hydraulic jack for that," McGee said.

"Yeah, but how are they gonna get it in there? It's a pretty tight fit, and there's not enough room for DiNozzo to even sit up to set it up, himself."

Tim thought for a moment, calculating the size of the opening. "I could do it," he said. "I can squeeze through there and set it up, then we'll cut through the concrete and pull him out."

Gibbs looked him up and down, realizing that the agent was, indeed, smaller around than the rest of them now. He nodded to him, "Go get it. And call Ziva while you're out there; see if she's found anything yet."

"On it," he said as he jogged off.

"How is he doing, Jethro?" Ducky asked.

"He couldn't hear for a while, but he's comin' around now. I didn't notice any injuries other than his leg being stuck."

"Give him this," he handed him a bottle of water. "And ask him if he's in any pain or if he lost consciousness after the blast."

Gibbs nodded and shimmied his arm and head into the opening of the wreckage, shining the light toward Tony again. "You feelin' okay?" he asked as Tony picked his head up slightly to look his way.

"Head hurts...and my leg. Think I'm okay though, Boss," he said, still breathing heavily.

"Duck wants to know if you lost consciousness after the blast."

"Think so, for a little bit...how long have I been in here?"

"Maybe forty minutes," he replied as he reached out as far as he could with the water bottle in hand. "Here, take this."

Tony reached and grabbed hold of it, "Thanks, Boss... How much longer?"

"McGee's getting a hydraulic jack and he's gonna try and squeeze in here and get your leg unstuck. The fire rescue is bringin' in a concrete saw so we can pull you outta here. Shouldn't be too much longer." Tony took a long drink from the bottle, choking a bit as he pulled it away. "Easy, DiNozzo. You gotta calm down. You're gonna be okay."

"I know. I'm tryin', Boss... This whole claustrophobia thing is fairly new to me, ya know. Not completely sure how to handle it gracefully..."

Gibbs smirked, "As long as you don't give up hope." Tony watched as Gibbs pulled out of the car and looked up, then turned back to look at him. "McGee's gonna try and get your leg free now," he told him. Tony nodded in acknowledgment and watched as Gibbs disappeared from his view and was replaced by Tim. "Hey, McGoo," Tony smirked as his probie placed the jack down onto the floor before pushing himself, unceremoniously, through the opening until half his body was inside.

"Hey, Tony," he said with a nervous smile as he looked up at him. "Can you shine the light over here?" Tony did as he was asked and realized that the agent was trying not to put any weight on him. Both hands held him up on either side of Tony's legs on the seat below them, and he was almost crushed up against the ceiling.

"You're obviously barely a buck-twenty, Probie," he told him. "You're not gonna crush me. You can lean on me if you need to."

"I just didn't wanna hurt you. Wasn't sure if you had any injuries."

"Just the leg that you're about to free for me," he said. Tim nodded and turned a bit onto his side facing the wheel as he reached down to secure the jack in place. As he worked, he glanced at the positioning of Tony's leg where it was trapped.

"When the wheel starts moving off, your leg is probably gonna hurt like hell," he told him. "Mostly because the blood will be rushing back into it after it's been mostly clamped off this whole time."

"Awesome," Tony sighed. "Well...as long as it means I can get outta here, I think I'm cool with that."

"You ready?" Tim met his eyes.

"As I'll ever be," he replied.

Tim secured his right hand on the seat beside Tony as he readied to pump the jack. As the wheel began to move slightly, he heard Tony suck in a breath, and he turned to look at him. He continued his efforts, forcing the wheel to lift more, and he could tell that Tony was holding his breath; eyes clamping shut as he gripped the seat beside Tim's hand. The wheel lifted more and he couldn't hold back the throaty scream any longer.

McGee took Tony's hand in his as he continued, and Tony's hand flipped around to grip onto it for dear life as the wheel lifted enough that his leg slipped out. His eyes shot open once he felt it, and he looked to Tim for confirmation. "You okay?" McGee asked with concern on his face.

Tony took a few steadying breaths, "Yeah...thanks." Tim nodded as he let go of Tony's hand and began to push back out of the opening. "W- where are you going?"

"I've gotta move out of the way so they can cut through here and get you out," he told him.

"Oh...right..." he gave a smirk through the nervousness on his face.

"Don't worry, Tony," he assured him, "It won't be much longer. You'll be outta here in no time."

"I love ya, McGee," his voice cracked, and Tim could see his eyes brimming even in the dark.

Tim crawled back into the car a bit and put his hand over the one that was clenching the seat again. "You're getting out of here," he told him, meeting his eyes with absolution. "So don't give up hope and say your goodbyes."

Tony swallowed and furrowed his brow, "I just...have a really bad feeling..."

"Well, don't! We're gonna get you out, I promise you." Somewhere above them, they heard a loud creaking sound begin.

Tony gripped Tim's wrist, "Go, Tim! Get outta here!"

McGee stayed for a moment until the creaking stopped. Then he pushed back, "We'll get you out, Tony," he said as he pulled out of the wreckage. Turning toward Gibbs, he realized the fireman was standing by with the saw and he moved out of the way so he could begin. "What was that sound, Boss?"

"They think the ceiling's getting ready to cave more. You get his leg free?" he asked. McGee nodded and looked up at the ceiling with a furrowed brow. The sound of the saw powering on drew their attention back to the fireman. "You and Ducky need to get outta here," he said loud enough for him to hear.

McGee turned to face him and shook his head, "I promised him, Boss..."

"I'll get him out, McGee," he told him with narrowed eyes. "I don't wanna have to worry about you and Duck if that ceiling caves." Tim turned his head toward the wreckage with worry in his eyes. Then he felt Gibbs' hand on his shoulder and met a gaze that was a bit closer than he'd expected now. "I _will_ get him out," he told him firmly. Then he shook his head as he said, "I'm not leavin' here without him."

"Come, Timothy," Ducky took hold of McGee's arm and pulled him as he began to walk. "We'll prepare for when they get Anthony out of there." McGee frowned as he backed away from his boss, mostly from the fear caused by what his boss had said. Staying in there _was_ a risk. Gibbs intended to stay, regardless of what happened, which meant that if he didn't get Tony out in time, he would not leave...he would die with him...

Gibbs watched his friends make their way out of the garage before turning back toward the wreckage. The saw powered off and a large block of the concrete fell with a clang down onto the floor. "Think we're ready, Agent Gibbs," he said as he placed the tool down.

Gibbs knelt down in front of the opening, "DiNozzo, you ready?"

"Do ya really have to ask, Boss?"

Gibbs smirked as he grabbed hold of Tony's calves, "You gonna make me do all the work?"

"Tryin', Boss, but it's kinda hard to move in here..."

The loud creaking started again, dust showering down on top of them. Gibbs glanced at the fireman who grabbed one of Tony's legs, "When need to move, now!" he yelled.

*~.~*

Tim paced nervously back and forth in front of the garage. "I should've stayed," he said. "I shouldn't have listened...I should've stayed and helped."

"Jethro is very capable of doing this, Timothy," Ducky assured him. "He wouldn't have allowed you to stay."

McGee was about to respond, when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID before answering. "Hey, Ziva."

_"We found him," _she said on the other line. _"Metro PD picked him up. He is being escorted here right now."_ Her voice was drowned out by the sudden loud creaking behind him, and he turned around to watch as the ceiling, above where the wreckage was, cave in, causing a large cloud of dust to flood the garage.

"No..."

_"McGee? What is happening?"_

Tim's arm dropped to his side and his phone crashed to the ground. He shook his head as tears began to sting his eyes. "No!" he took off running into the cloud...

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**Tbc...**


	16. Chapter 16

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"Boss!" McGee's running slowed as the dust caused him to cough. He pulled the neck of his shirt over his mouth and nose and stopped for a moment, trying to somehow will the dust to settle so he could see in front of him. He closed his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought that he'd left them there to die... He should have stayed...shouldn't have let them do it without him. He could've helped...

Somewhere in the distance he heard coughing. His eyes shot open and his heart pounded in his chest. "Boss?" he yelled and started walking forward again. Through the clearing dust, he saw three figures walking toward him. Tony, with Gibbs and the fireman on either side of him, assisting him as they made their way out. An overwhelming feeling of relief washed over him.

"Thought I told you to get outta here, McGee," Gibbs said as he turned to walk beside them.

"I did...I was, Boss. But the cave-in...well, I thought...didn't know if..."

"I told you I'd get him out, didn't I?"

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"C'mon, Ducky," Tony said from his seat over the edge of the back of the ambulance. "I'm completely fine."

"You've got blood comin' outta your ears, DiNozzo," Gibbs said from his seat beside him.

"From the blast, no doubt," Ducky said. "It's dried, and most likely not serious, seeing as your hearing seems to have returned to normal. Ear drums heal on their own."

"See, Boss?" Tony grinned, "There's nothin' they can do for me. I don't need to go to the hospital."

"My concern, however, is for you leg. It was pinned for a while."

"But I can move it just fine, Ducky. I practically walked outta there myself!" he glanced at Gibbs, "Well...I had some help, but still..."

"It's a bit swollen. You should be monitored for possible Rhabdomyolysis. It happens when the muscle is crushed, releases enzymes into the body and sometimes ends up blocking the kidney."

"You're goin', Tony," Gibbs told him.

"Guys...come on," Tony planted his palms on his forehead. "My head is killin' me...I just wanna go home and go to bed."

"You can sleep at the hospital," Gibbs told him.

"Nah, that's not gonna happen. They're gonna hook me up to things and poke me and prod me every hour..." his hands fell to his lap as he hunched over in defeat.

"I'll make you a deal," Gibbs said. "You go in for the day, and I'll come get you tonight as long as everything checks out okay."

Tony looked at him, "Stayin' at your place again?"

"Gotta keep an eye on ya if you're not gonna be in the hospital," he replied. He had to admit to himself that this wasn't completely just for Tony's benefit.

"Ok, Boss...but don't leave me there too long or I might figure out my own plan of escape."

Gibbs raised his brows in amusement, "Keep talkin', DiNozzo. I'll have a protection detail outside your room in no time."

Tony started to laugh, which quickly developed into a cough that had him lurching over. After a few moments of the continued struggle, Gibbs put a hand on his agent's back and looked to Ducky.

"No doubt he's inhaled some of the dust," the doctor explained. McGee stepped into view of them as he hung up his cell and looked in their direction.

"Eh...might wanna move, Duck," Tony said as he swallowed and flung an arm at the doctor's chest to push him before he began to vomit into the street below them.

Ducky met Gibbs' eyes again, "Most likely, he's had a concussion. If you _do_ check him out this evening, I insist on coming by to check in on him. Maybe I'll stay the night."

Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment, not taking his eyes off of his agent. Tony was simply breathing now, though; catching his breath after the heaving had ended. "You okay?" he asked.

Tony straightened back up, "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that, Boss. I think I'm ready to go, now." He stood with heavy-lidded eyes and swayed a bit. Gibbs stood and steadied him, and Tony turned toward him, wrapping his arms around his boss, "Love ya, Boss." Gibbs smirked, shaking his head as he ruffed the back of Tony's hair. "Where's McGee?" Tony asked as he gently pulled away.

"Right here, Tony," McGee said as he stepped a bit closer.

Tony looked lazily in his direction and smirked, "Thanks for not givin' up on me, Probie."

"I'd never do that," he replied with a furrowed brow.

"You're a good brother, Tim," he said before dizzying and nearly falling over, had it not been for Gibbs catching him.

"Okay, Tony. Let's get you in this ambulance," Gibbs and Ducky assisted the paramedic in getting Tony into the back of the vehicle...

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McGee exited the elevator and headed toward the bullpen. Ziva stood from her desk as she saw him, "What happened, McGee? Is Tony okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed as he threw his pack beside his desk. "He's at the hospital for observation. Ducky says he's got a concussion and possibly a crushing injury from where his leg was pinned under the steering wheel."

She looked him up and down, noticing his filthy shirt and bloody hand, "You are a mess, McGee."

He glanced down at himself, "Yeah...guess I should go clean up." He opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a clean shirt, then headed for the restroom. Ziva decidedly followed him, unbeknownst to Tim, and gave a smirk to the agent who was leaving the restroom as she entered.

As Tim shed his shirt, Ziva could see the red scrapes on his chest and she narrowed her eyes. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, she could tell there was something weighing on his mind. "You are upset," she said, and he jumped, startled that there was suddenly someone else in the room.

He found her reflection in the mirror behind him, "I'd remind you that you're in the mens room, but I know that's never stopped you from coming in here before." She smirked, but remained silent and he knew she was waiting for him to answer. "I'm not upset," he told her. "I'm just..." he sighed as he washed his hands. "Gibbs made Ducky and I leave the garage because the ceiling was in danger of collapsing more. Then when it actually did... Ziva, for a minute I thought they were both dead," he said in barely a whisper before splashing some of the water over his face. He reached for the paper towels.

"But they are alive," she reminded him as she stepped a bit away from the wall.

"Yeah, I know," he said as he dried his face and hands. "But for a minute...I don't think I've ever felt so absolutely..." he squinted as he tried to summon the right description, "Lost...as much as I did in that moment." He threw on his clean shirt and started buttoning it up.

Ziva came to stand in front of him, "It is part of our job...the possibility of losing someone on our team."

"I know that, Ziva," he met her eyes. "I do...Maybe that's why I'm upset. This team is important to me; maybe _too_ important. Losing Kate was tough, but this... I just... I don't think I could do this if they were gone... I couldn't stay at NCIS. Not as a field agent, anyway."

"But you are a good agent, McGee."

"I wouldn't _want_ to do it anymore. Not without them. I dunno if that makes sense, but...that's how I felt." Ziva put a hand on his arm and gave him a small smile and a look with her eyes that conveyed that she did, in fact, understand what he was saying.

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"Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs!" Abby scurried over to him when he entered the lab, "I heard about what happened in the garage!" she threw her arms around him. "Is everyone okay?"

"You mean, besides the Lieutenant?" he smirked.

She pulled away and narrowed her eyes at him, "You know what I mean, Gibbs!"

"Tony's fine, Abby. Whatya got for me?"

"He was in an explosion and trapped in a car, and he's fine?"

"He's in the hospital for observation, Abs. Has a concussion and a minor leg injury, but he'll be fine. Now what do you have for me?"

She pursed her lips and took a breath, trying to contain her stubborn side, before turning to go back to her computer. "Jarod Pinciardi," she began, "Is the name of the guy who planted the bomb." She pulled up his picture on the screen. "He's got a history of petty theft and misdemeanors, but in the past five years, up until now of course, he's been clean."

"Or hasn't been caught," Gibbs said.

She turned her head to look at him with a knowing grin, "Exactly. Ziva interrogated him when they first brought him in, and he claims to have been hired to plant the bomb. But he wouldn't give a name. So I did a little digging," she turned back to her screen as she began typing again. "Pinciardi's father owns a small mechanic shop downtown. Only..." she turned to Gibbs as she pulled up a document on the screen. "His father's been dead for two weeks."

"Left the business to his son," Gibbs surmised.

"Actually, there's no record of whom the business was left to, except on a server the company was paying for."

"Varicon..."

"My guess is, Jarod found out Daddy wasn't leaving him the family business."

"He blew up the garage to destroy the servers on the next floor."

"I'll know for sure when they bring me what's left of them."

"That's good work, Abs," he said as he placed a Caf-Pow down in front of her and a kiss on her cheek.

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McGee stood in front of the two-way mirror in the observation room, looking at Pinciardi where he squirmed in his seat. Ziva entered and sat across from the suspect with a folder in her hand and a satisfied smirk on her face that Tim happened to catch before her face turned from him.

He heard someone enter the room behind him but didn't turn to look. He could tell it was Gibbs before he even joined his side in front of the mirror. They were both silent for a moment as they watched the interrogation. Then Gibbs spoke, "When metro pulls the servers from Varicon, I want you to help Abby go through them."

"'Course, Boss," he replied. Silence filled the room again; voices only being heard through the speaker coming from interrogation.

After a few minutes, Gibbs turned his body to face McGee, which ultimately made Tim look over at him with a furrowed brow, almost afraid of what his boss might say. "Ya did good today, McGee," he told him. Tim looked down a bit, not completely accepting of that. Gibbs cocked his head, "If you hadn't been there...if you hadn't freed Tony's leg before they got there with the saw, we wouldn't have had time to get him out." Tim's eyes met his again. "You're a good agent, Tim," he said in a quiet voice. "It'd be a shame for the agency to lose you if somethin' ever happened to Tony or myself. We wouldn't want that," he subtly shook his head.

McGee wasn't sure how the hell Gibbs knew what he'd told Ziva in the restroom, and he wasn't even going to try to figure it out. His eyes shifted back and forth between Gibbs', then he turned back to face the interrogation room. He wanted to say he couldn't make any promises...but he didn't want Gibbs to think he couldn't handle the possibilities the future could hold. He _could_ handle it, but it wouldn't be the way they wanted him to...

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It was seven thirty before Gibbs was able to get to the hospital. As he entered Tony's room, he noticed that the agent was fairly annoyed at the nurse's presence, but trying very hard not to show it. What he must not have realized was that she was doing the final blood tests so that he could be released. So Gibbs stood there in the doorway until the nurse was finished and started out of the room, then he approached Tony's bed.

"Boss!" Tony grinned as he realized he was there. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."

Gibbs cocked his head and tossed Tony's overnight bag into his lap, "You wanna leave with me, you're gonna have to wear somethin' besides that gown."

"On it," he pushed up from bed.

"Talked to the doc; he says you're good to go, but I need to sign something. I'll be back in a minute," he turned to head out as Tony changed. Inwardly, Tony was washed with relief. The sun had started going down just minutes before Gibbs had arrived and he had begun to panic a bit, though he tried his best to suppress it. Now that Gibbs was here, though, his panic was dissipated.

When he finished getting his clothes on, he sat back on the bed to slip on his socks and shoes and Gibbs came back into the room. "Only sleep I got was in the ambulance on the way here," Tony told him. "Every time I started to doze off, someone was in here like clockwork, taking blood or taking me for x-rays. It's like they _knew_ exactly when I was about to pass out...conspiring against me."

"At least they didn't find anything wrong," Gibbs smirked. "And you'll sleep all the better tonight."

"Guess you're right, Boss," he stood and headed out the door with Gibbs. "Always lookin' at the bright side," he grinned as his boss gave him a questioning look which soon faded into a shaking of his head.

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Gibbs had managed to keep Tony awake the entire drive home, updating him on the case and conviction. But as he turned off the ignition in front of the house, Tony yawned deeply. "You can try and get some sleep in before Ducky shows up," Gibbs said. "Or you can wait till he gets here."

"Think I'll try and wait," Tony said as they got out of the car and started toward the house. "If I get jerked from my sleep by one more doctor, I might go ballistic."

Gibbs smirked, "How do you plan on stayin' awake? Ya looked like you were gonna pass out before you even got to the hospital."

"Maybe there's somethin' on TV," he suggested as they made their way into the house.

"How's your head and your stomach? You hungry?"

"I'm feelin' okay, but no, I'm not hungry," he plopped down onto the couch.

"Beer?" Gibbs shouted from the kitchen.

"Not if you're gonna take it away," Gibbs heard the smirk in the agent's voice. Gibbs soon returned to the living room with two beers, handing one to Tony before sitting down beside him. Tony took it with hesitancy, giving Gibbs a questioning look.

"Doc said one would be okay," he told him before handing him the remote. Tony took it and flipped the television on, surfing through the few channels available. Finding nothing particularly interesting, he decided on the news.

After taking a good swig of his beer, Tony sighed. "Sorry 'bout today, Boss," he said in a quiet voice. "I messed up."

Gibbs took a swig of his beer then looked at the tv. "Scared the hell outta me," he said, finally. "But it wasn't your fault, Tony."

Tony looked at him, "_You_ were scared?"

Gibbs looked briefly at his lap then back at the screen. "When McGee told me you were buried under that cave-in, I thought we might've lost you. And the thought of you bein' trapped in there...well I wasn't sure what to expect."

"You got me out," he replied softly. "You always get me out, Boss." Their eyes met as he gave him a weak smile. "I'm just sorry I keep getting myself into situations that require you to do so."

Gibbs raised his brows, "You're lucky you've got a concussion, DiNozzo, or I'd head-slap ya." A big grin plastered Tony's face at that...

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**Tbc...**

/hr

**(Thought I'd lay off on the cliffies for once hehe)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Last chapter! Didn't realize this was going to be it, but once I got to the end there, I realized this was a good place to leave off. But I wanted to give fair warning! ;) **

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Eventually, Tony ended up falling fast asleep. Gibbs hadn't noticed until he heard a momentary soft snoring and looked over. He regarded him with a smirk, then shifted to push himself up, but the movement caused Tony to shift toward him onto his side and grasp the sleeve of his shirt. He looked at his agent again, noticing the shudder that ran through him as he slept, and decidedly leaned back onto the couch.

As he did so, Tony's forehead rested against his boss's bicep and the furrow in his brow decidedly began to disappear. Gibbs rested his head back on the couch and took a deep breath. Memories of the day...even of the past week, rolled into his mind like a dark mist and he felt a shudder run through his _own_ body.

But he allowed himself to remain calm at the feeling of his agent alive and well at his side, once again affirming that everything was going to be okay. He thought of McGee; what he'd said to Ziva about not wanting to do this without them... He understood that feeling all too well. It was what kept him in that garage. It's what would make him do it again if he had to. He wasn't going to lose his family; not again...

The sudden opening of the front door caused Tony to tense beside him; nearly jumping the lower half of his body up onto the cushion, pulling his knees almost to his chest as he clung for dear life onto his boss. One hand clutched the back of Gibbs' shoulder, and the other clung to the front of Gibbs' shirt as Tony squirmed beside him; his breath becoming more rapid with anxiety.

Gibbs didn't need to ponder what was playing in the agent's mind; he knew what it was the moment the door sounded. He reached his free arm across and laid a comforting hand at the back of Tony's head, "I've got you," he told him close to his ear. "You're okay, I've got you, Tony." He felt him begin to relax a bit and he pulled his hand from its place on Tony's head. Tony's hand re-clenched at Gibbs' shirt, and Gibbs put his own hand over it, trying to reassure him. He pulled his hand free of his shirt and held it as Tony twisted his hand around to grasp onto it.

Ducky quietly entered the living room with a pillow and Gibbs looked up at him. He'd known it was Ducky that had come in when he'd heard the door open. He must have slipped away when he realized Tony's distress. "Let him sleep, Duck," Gibbs told him in barely a whisper. Ducky nodded, his intentions having already been on that road, and he moved to lay the pillow on the far end of the couch. The two of them helped lower Tony down onto it, then Gibbs pulled a throw over him, slowly releasing Tony's hand as the agent seemed to be relaxed for the moment.

Gibbs stood, appraising Tony once more before turning to follow Ducky into the kitchen. "I spoke with the hospital and Anthony's final blood tests came back normal. I think he'll be fine. I'll admit to being a bit alarmed to see him just now when I came in... But only because it reminded me of when we found you in that cell..."

"Only gets like that when he's sleepin'," Gibbs told him.

"Understandably so," he replied. "Tell me, Jethro; does he intend on coming in to work tomorrow?"

Gibbs smirked, "Knowing Tony, he'll probably want to."

"I figured as much," he smiled. "Remarkably enough, there was no major injury to his leg. But he should probably stay out of the field until the swelling goes down, which shouldn't be more than a few days." Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment. "How is he, otherwise?"

Gibbs glanced into the living room at the sleeping agent, "I think he's gonna be okay, Duck."

"I can see that he takes great comfort in your presence."

Gibbs looked back over at the M.E, "That goes both ways, I think." He walked to the fridge and opened it, retrieving a couple bottles of water. "After what happened with Griswald, I keep finding myself needin' to make sure he's okay," he handed one of the bottle to Ducky. "Not just because he might need me around, but..." his eyes darted around somewhere between them for a few moments. "Hell, I dunno, Duck," he wiped a hand down his face.

"You need to see that he's okay, just as much as he takes comfort knowing that you're there with him," Ducky explained for him. "Though I'm sure neither of you want to admit that to one another," he smirked. "You care a great deal for each other, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Care about everyone on the team. So does Tony."

"Yes, that's true. However, I feel it runs a little deeper for the two of you." Gibbs narrowed his eyes in question of what he might be implying. "There is no other person whom Tony trusts as much as he does you. And there are levels of respect and admiration I doubt he has for many other people in his life. You're like the father he _should've_ had. And I don't think that I need to tell you how _you_ feel."

Gibbs took a long drink of his water and decidedly took a seat at the table. Ducky watched him for several long moments as he seemed to be contemplating something, then took a seat across from him. Gibbs met his eyes, "How's McGee seem to you?"

"Besides concerned for the well-being of his colleagues?" Ducky raised a brow.

"I overheard him tellin' Ziva that he would've given up his badge if we hadn't come outta that garage today."

"I see," the doctor glanced down at the table-top in thought for a moment. "Timothy's seen a great deal of both incidents...and probably feels as though he'd somehow let you both down in some way. Though he may know, just as well as the rest of us, that there was little he could've done to prevent those things from happening, he still feels responsible in some way. We almost lost the two of you on two separate occasions in a very short span of time. It's had us all scared, Jethro. Timothy's response was most likely due to the stress of it all. What he said, could have simply been the only way he knew how to express those feelings."

"Maybe..."

"He's a smart lad, Jethro. If it ever comes down to it, he'll make the right choice..."

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Tony woke up to the smell of coffee. As he pushed himself up to sit, he yelped and groaned at the soreness that seemed to radiate through his entire body. He rubbed his hands over his eyes and face as he stretched.

"Mornin'," Gibbs said as he walked in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee.

"Mornin', Boss," Tony said, taking the cup Gibbs was handing him. "Thanks. What time is it?"

"0530," he replied. "Ya passed out pretty early last night."

"Yeah, I guess this is most sleep I've gotten in a while. You sleep well?" he asked before taking a long drink from his mug.

"Not bad," he said as he retrieved his own mug from the kitchen and returned to sit in the chair across from the couch. "Duck came by last night; said your tests all came back fine. You can come in to work, but on desk duty only, for the next few days."

"I think I can live with that," he said as he uncomfortably rolled his shoulders. "Mind if I grab a shower before we head in?" Gibbs shrugged.

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"Tony!" Abby ran up toward him and Gibbs as they made their way from the elevator to the bullpen.

"Abs!" Gibbs warned and she froze. "Be gentle," he told her with raised brows. She grinned and gave Tony a hug, as gently as she was capable of.

"Good to see you, too, Abby," Tony said. "What are you doing here so early?" he gave a quick glance to Gibbs, conveying with his eyes, his gratitude for stopping the assault.

"Oh I didn't go home last night," she said as she pulled away from him and followed them into the bullpen. "McGee and I have been going through the servers from Varicon, but we had to do a lot of repairs before we could even start."

"Find anything?" Gibbs asked as he sat at his desk.

"We found the server that contains the Pinciardi info, but there's like ten years worth of documentation in there we've gotta go through."

"So what are ya doin' up here?"

"I'm going on a breakfast run, Gibbs," she grinned. "Want anything?"

"You coulda sent the Probie," Tony said as he slowly sank into his chair.

Abby turned to face him, "He can barely keep his eyes open as it is and he refuses to take a nap. I'm happily jacked up on Caf-Pow! So, I'm gonna go get him some of the good stuff so he's actually useful for the next couple hours. You should go down and make sure he stays awake! Or force him to go take a nap...either way..."

Tony pushed up from his chair, glancing at Gibbs briefly. "Yeah, I need to have a chat with him, anyway."

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McGee was in the middle of an exaggerated stretch in front of Abby's computer when he felt a smack to the back of the head and spun around. "What the hell was that for, Tony?" he asked as he stood.

"Tryin' to smack some sense into you," he said with a furrowed brow.

"What?"

"I happen to know for a _fact_ that you love being an agent, McGoo."

Tim's eyes widened, then squinted within seconds, "Does _everyone_ on this team have ESP except me?"

Tony took a breath through his nose, steadying himself somewhere between anger and disappointment. "I swear if you ever do that, I'll team up with Gibbs and haunt you from beyond the grave."

McGee pouted for a long moment. "I'm way too tired to have this conversation right now."

"Tough shit, McGee. If word ever got out that this team could be completely wiped out by getting rid of two of us, how much faster do you think we're gonna end up on cold tables?"

"That...that's not fair, Tony..." he flinched.

"You're damn right, it's not fair!" he said with anger, but an almost possessed smile. "None of us wants to die, obviously. But to think that it would ruin the rest of your life, too...I dunno what to say to that."

"Well, you weren't really supposed to know what the hell I planned to do in the worst-case-scenario. And to be honest, it's not fair for you to tell me to just move on if that ever happened. You have no idea..." his sentence drifted of as his gaze drifted lower and he shook his head.

It was Tony's turn to flinch in sudden realization. "Yeah, I do," he said, and Tim met his eyes again. "We've got a lot more in common than we think, Probie. Which is why I know it'd be a huge mistake for you to ever stop doing your job."

McGee swallowed as his eyes darted around in thought. "Alright, listen...I'll make you a deal," he began, meeting his eyes again. "You give a little more time in between your near-death experiences, and I'll stop having mini nervous breakdowns and coming to certain conclusions about my future."

Tony narrowed his eyes, slightly in amusement. "I'll do my best."

"And stop with the head-slaps."

"You know you like it," he smirked.

"I mean it!"

"It's not gonna happen, Probie! It's part of the training. Askin' me to stop would be like askin' Gibbs to stop. In fact, I should heal-slap you right now for even suggesting it, but I know you're over-tired, so I'm gonna cut you some slack." McGee pursed his lips. "Now go take a nap on Abby's futon. We're not on a time-crunch."

After a moment, Tim nodded and walked past him toward Abby's office. Tony turned and started out of the lab. "Hey, Tony?" Tim's voice caused him to turn back around to face him in question. "You're a good brother, too." It took Tony a moment to recall that he'd said that to him the night before, but by the time his eyes went to meet his again, McGee had resumed course into the office.

As Tony made his way to the elevator, he couldn't help but to smirk at what he'd just been told. Everything seemed right again, though it'd been such a short time away from the chaos. Things were on the mend; his family was together. All was well with the world...

And...he'd beat Ziva to work today...

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**Fin**

**A/N: Didn't want this to turn into a drone of 'recovery' nonsense from here on out, and that's all I could foresee it being from this point. Hope it was satisfying enough for you all :)**


End file.
